Kingdom of Hope
by KittenofShadows
Summary: The time has finally come. Accompanied by those who have become his family, Eragon now journeys to Uru'baen. But none can forsee the terrible betrayal that awaits him and Princess Rune upon arrival : a betrayal that will change their world forever.
1. Trampled Heart

**Author's Note: This is the first installment in the Kingdom of Hope duet. You may not understand the characters if you haven't read the Heirs to Darkness trilogy.**

If there was any day in Dras Leona that could be called quiet, it was this one. The waves of Leona Lake lapped quietly at the shore, stirring tiny clouds of sand. The wind through the leaves didn't rustle as they usually did. Underfoot, the grass didn't crunch. Squirrels were silent as they went about sniffing the ground for food. A fox slipped into the shadows, red fur a flash.

Above, high in the endless blue sky, soared a hawk. His tawny feathers moved gently in the wind, rippling like waves as he hovered on the thermals.

His fierce yellow eyes stared down at the ground below. His avian heart was beating beneath his breast, but his mind was aching as badly as his wing when it had been broken.

A mouse dared venture out of the cover of the brush, and he dove. The little creature was skewered neatly through the heart. It was dead before the pain hit its brain.

The hawk ate the mouse quickly, hoping the food might quell his nerves.

That taken care of, he angled his wings to take him back to the city. The warm air that rose around him lifted his feathers, and for a moment a song echoed in his heart. Then he remembered the figure that laid, still as death, on the bed in the city below, and the song was gone.

He landed neatly on a tree branch, coming to a swift stop. His wings flared to slow him down so he didn't go soaring off the branch and into another headfirst.

His golden eyes turned to a window nearby. He swooped to the sill, talons tightening. His heart clenched as he saw the girl on the bed.

She was no longer the mess she had been, after the accident. But her skin remained pale, her breath shallow. Her heart was beating, he could just barely hear it there, in her chest. But it was agonizingly slow.

A boy sat by the bed. He had rarely moved in two days, not even to eat. His twisting Shade eyes stared at her lovingly, his fingers stroking her hand gently all the while.

_Rune._

The boy looked up, saw the hawk, and looked back down. He ran his fingers over her collarbone, resting on the chain she wore around her neck. He played with it in his fingers for a moment.

Rune stirred, a moan escaping her lips. Then she was silent again.

"She is feverish, Tawnyclaw," the boy said to the hawk.

_Heart heat, _the hawk affirmed.

The boy pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. "It's been two days."

_Sunset to sunrise, twice again._

A pale girl peered around the doorway, her blue eyes concerned. "Is she any better, Súndavar?" Her wispy blonde hair fell over one eye, and she brushed it away, tucking it neatly in with the rest.

The boy looked up and shook his head. "No better."

The girl came to sit by him. She took the cloth from his head and felt Rune's forehead. "Her fever's gone down."

Súndavar shrugged. "Has it, Lenori?"

She nodded and smiled at him.

Súndavar's lips curled into a tiny smile back. Tawnyclaw fidgeted on the windowsill.

"She's going to be okay," Lenori said.

Súndavar smiled wider. He brought Rune's hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

_I love you_, he thought at her. _Get better soon._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Saphira felt the life-song singing in her heart. The words swirled around her like the lifelight, dancing, whirling, always just out of grasp. A thousand voices called to her, each with a different message._

_**Saphira.**_

_Saphira started, looking around. She could see no one to have uttered her name._

_**Saphira.**_

_**Show yourself, **Saphira whispered, but her breath was stolen from her with the words on it. The lifelight laughed and danced. It began to sing. This time, is was a single tune, and single melody, sung by thousands of voices._

_**Dracling, dracling, of the wind,**_

_**Bathe to free thee from thy sins,**_

_**Deep within the heart of Hope,**_

_**Ne'er in darkness more to grope.**_

_**ooo**_

_**Friend of blood that's royal, true,**_

**_Throne that glints in darkest hue,_**

_**Hateful heart will truth disguise,**_

_**Scar with gore the lonely skies.**_

_**ooo**_

_**Girl who sleeps with bloodied breast,**_

_**Trampled heart within her chest,**_

_**Daughter of the darkest one,**_

**_Fall of King and joy to come._**

_**ooo**_

_**Princess, daughter, sweet fricai, **_

_**Comely one, who's ne'er to die,**_

_**Hear this foreword, hear it right,**_

_**Prophesy to banish night.**_

_**ooo**_

_**Kingdom, Kingdom, Hope so grand,**_

_**Might of love-light, her command,**_

_**Save the queen, save Kingdom true,**_

_**This task, oh dracling, falls to you.**_

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Shay touched Vanir's chest with gentle fingers, feeling his heart beat against hers. Their legs were entwined with each other in the grass.

"That was wonderful, Vanir," she whispered softly in his pointed ear. "I missed you so much."

He kissed her neck in response, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and moving up to kiss her lips.

She gave in to his embrace, hands slipping around his torso and fingers locking. The kiss deepened before he pulled out for breath.

"Eragon will come looking for us," Shay whispered. "It's almost daylight."

"Let him look," Vanir muttered, touching her. "He'll not find us until we wish it."

"We should get dressed," Shay said, crawling away from him. "Maybe something has changed with Rune."

Vanir sighed and levered himself onto one elbow. He received a tunic in the face – Shay had thrown it at him – and brushed it away, only to be bombarded with his breeches. When he had righted himself, Shay was already dressed.

_Too bad,_ he muttered inwardly, before standing up and putting on his own clothes.

The mates walked hand in hand back to Ric's cottage, passing the corral where Eridor had been tethered. Shay saw it and felt her heart pull painfully, even though she was still on a love-high.

"She'll get better," Vanir assured her. "She can't just _die_."

But Shay wasn't so sure.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_What's happening to me, Lexi?"_

_Lexia sat very still, her hand entwined in her hair. She was braiding and unbraiding strands of it, nervously. Her white eyes stared into infinity._

"_You're changing," she said simply._

"_But you don't know why?" he urged. "Surely you'd know plenty of things I don't. Being dead and all."_

"_Death isn't a teacher, Súndavar," Lexia sighed. "I don't think I've learned a thing since the Battle. Besides, I'm not even sure I exist."_

_He set his head on his hands. "There's no way you can figure it out?"_

"_The dead don't socialize much, I'm afraid," Lexia said sarcastically. "How do you propose I go about finding out?"_

_Súndavar looked away. "My father got into my mind and told me that there used to be spirits in me," he said. "Do you suppose you could…check for anything unusual?"_

"_In your mind, Súndavar, I wouldn't even begin to guess at what 'unusual' means."_

"_Hey!"_

_She grinned. "Alright. I'll try it. Will you open yourself to me?"_

_He nodded. "Of course. I don't think I could close my mind to you if I **wanted** to. And I definitely don't."_

_Her grin widened, and she closed her eyes. He felt her mind in his, and for a moment they blended in a new, wonderful, forbidden way. Lexia shivered and pulled away._

"_I'm sorry," she gasped. "I didn't mean to—"_

"_It's alright. Keep searching."_

_She nodded quickly and delved into him again. Her mind slipped into his memories gently. She touched on his cutting, on Slate's abandonment, on his silent death-wish in the alley. She squeaked in surprise and drew away again._

"_Sún…"_

_He looked away. "Sorry. I should have blocked those out."_

"_No…I'm glad you didn't. I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"_

"_Not really."_

_She shrugged gently. "Alright, I understand," she said. "Do want me to try again?"_

"_It's kinda hopeless, isn't it?"_

"_No," she said stubbornly. "It's not hopeless at all. I'll try not to get scared this time."_

"_Do I really scare you?" he asked._

_She blinked her milky eyes and looked away. There was silence for a moment, before she spoke. "Súndavar, you aren't the boy I knew," she said. "You've lived so much since then. And with living comes changing. Some of the things you do scare me terribly, but I tell myself you know what you're doing. I wish I could help you, and I wish you hadn't done some of the things you've done, but I can't change you. I love you, and that covers the sins."_

_He reached out for her hand, and this time he felt it. Her skin was silky smooth, flawless, even in death. The scars that had criss-crossed her hands from warrior training had faded. Súndavar almost missed them, as he ran his fingers over her._

_She gasped in pleasure, and he darted away._

"_Sorry."_

"_Put them back," she said in ecstasy, "Oh, that felt wonderful! Just to be touched again…it's almost as if I was…"_

_Súndavar bit his lip. "Lex?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Can we try again? With my mind?"_

_She blinked with a frown, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But hold my hands. Please?"_

_He nodded, and they touched again. She slipped flawlessly into his mind, and this time she stayed there. She rifled through everything, before drawing away, into herself. Her eyes fluttered open._

"_They've left marks all over you, Sún," she whispered. "Like…like scars."_

"_But that doesn't tell me **why** I'm changing," he sighed. "I still don't know anything more than I did."_

"_I'm sorry. I wish I could help."_

_He forced a smile. "It's okay," he said. "You tried. And that deserves a reward."_

_Before she could say anything, his arms were around her, his lips on hers. He stayed there for a moment, breathing the sweet scent of her hair, before forcing himself to wake up._


	2. A Talk, An Oath, and An Awakening

**Author's Note: Hey, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Sorry this one's late. I've been running around with my head cut off trying to get everything done. Also, sorry about the poem in the last chapter. It wasn't very good. I wrote it in the shower. My guy friend had a birthday last week, so this one's to him. HAPPY 15TH BIRTHDAY LUKE! Hearts, Kittie**

_Rune felt cold. The darkness around her was cold, seeping in through her nose, her eyes, her mouth. It strangled her softly with its terrible embrace, choking and cradling her at the same time._

_**Hello, little devil.**_

_Rune felt colder._

_**How have you been?**_

_Rune began to struggle to free herself from the clinch of the shadows, but they only tightened around her._

_**Do you miss me?**_

_Rune tried to scream, but the darkness invaded her mouth, blocking off the sound. She gasped for air, but found none._

_**Werecat got your tongue? What a pity.**_

_Rune fought and clawed, but the dark power wasn't deferred. It – He – held her tightly, rocking slowly like one might a cradle._

_**Where are you hiding from me? ** he asked. **Where have you been all this time?**_

_Rune coughed, gasping for air. The shadows let her go, drawing away so she could answer._

**_You already know,_ **_she whispered. **You haunt me.**_

_The voice laughed, a laugh that Rune knew all too well. **Do I? Are my visits really so haunting? **he paused, **I've come to look forward to them. Pity the feeling isn't mutual.**_

_Rune shivered and pulled farther away. The darkness materialized at her back, pushing her into the center again. _

_**I hate you,** she said in a tiny hiss, like an angry kitten._

_**Do you now?**_

_**I hate you more than you could ever know.**_

_Rune could almost feel his grin. **Really? Then perhaps there is hope for you yet.**_

_**What?**_

_**Only those who have been hurt can hate, little devil. When you left, you were weak. Useless. You have become what I always wanted in a child.**_

_**You have taken away everything from me!** she cried. **How can you say I am what you want? You've haunted me, you've made me live in fear every waking moment.**_

_**Do you fear me? Or do you love me?**_

_**I hate you.**_

_**That is alright. Hate is powerful. Hate gives incentive.**_

**_I am not afraid for my own heart,_ **_Rune snapped. **I fear for those you will kill in simple cold blood.**_

_**Yet you know what you must do.**_

_**Yes. I know how to defeat you.**_

_Galbatorix grinned. The shadows grinned. Rune's hands clenched into fists._

_**We shall see, my dear. We shall see. When the time comes, perhaps you will find you do not hate me so much as you believe.**_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune woke with a fever. Her body shivered under the heavy blankets.

"Water," she croaked.

Súndavar looked up at her. For a moment his eyes flashed evergreen in happiness. "Rune!"

"Water," she repeated.

"Lenori!" Súndavar called. "Lenori, she's up!"

Lenori's head poked around the doorway, blonde hair a wave. She broke into a grin. "I'll get her something to drink," she said, darting away.

Súndavar squeezed Rune's hand tightly with his own. "How do you feel?"

"Like all of the bricks in the castle toppled and landed on my chest."

He laughed and pressed a hand against her cheek. "Eragon, Vanir, Ieran and I managed to heal most everything, but some things only time can cure."

She sighed, snuggling down into the blankets more. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful."

"I mean do I have bruises and scrapes? Will anything scar?"

Súndavar shook his head. "Even if it did, you'd still look beautiful."

Rune groaned. "And you look like a skunk. What _did_ you do to your hair?"

Súndavar touched his hair hesitantly. The red roots were half an inch long now, creating a rather interesting looking streak. "Uhm…"

"Actually, I'd rather not know," Rune said with a smile. "How have you been?"

"Worried. Tawnyclaw has been worried too."

Rune looked to the windowsill. "Where is he?"

Súndavar shrugged. "I'm not sure. He's been gone a lot. Without you holding him here, I don't think he has much of a reason to stay."

"I don't control him."

"If birds can love, he loves you."

"He's not just a bird."

"Of course not. He's a _talking_ bird."

They laughed together, and Rune felt a little bit better. Laughing hurt her chest, but it healed her heart.

"I love him too," she said. "But perhaps not in the same way I might love someone of my own species." She stopped as she realized that in reality, she and Eragon and Súndavar weren't the same species at all. Their blood was so mixed it was hard to tell what species they were at all. "Well…you know what I mean."

"Yes. I think it is basically impossible for anything to work out between you and Tawnyclaw."

"So you aren't worried?"

"Nope. I'm afraid he simply can't compete with me in this matter."

About this time Lenori returned with water. Súndavar helped Rune sit up, keeping the blankets tightly around her naked body. Rune sipped at the water with delight.

"I dreamed of Galbatorix again," she told Súndavar when Lenori had left.

"Oh?"

"Yes. He told me I don't hate him, and that I'm everything he wanted as a daughter."

Súndavar laughed.

"What have you been dreaming of?" Rune asked.

Súndavar blinked. _Lexia,_ he wanted to say. Instead, he replied, "I cannot remember my dreams."

"Really? They must not be important, then."

"No. Not important at all."

He was about to slip under the covers next to her, just for the pleasure of holding her in his arms again, keeping her shivering body warm, when Ieran came into the room. He looked pointedly at Súndavar, as if he had read his mind, before smiling at Rune.

"You awaken, maiden."

"If I had a crown for every time I heard someone say that, I would be a good deal richer than I am at the moment."

Ieran laughed. "And where is my son?"

"I'm ri—"

"Freoh?" Rune asked. "Mistress Keladry is caring for him. I didn't want to put a baby in danger. Plus he could give us away, if he started crying at the wrong time. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not in the least," Ieran said. "She'll take good care of him, I'm sure."

Súndavar was staring at them, open mouthed. "You mean Rune's been carrying around my bloody half-brother without me knowing?"

Rune blinked, but didn't look surprised at this revelation.

Ieran nodded. "Yes. Freoh is my son. Cladi was my lover."

"Lover or victim?"

Ieran looked away.

"So I thought," Súndavar snorted. Rune laid a hand on his arm.

"Hush," she told him firmly. "Don't rub salt in other's wounds. You of all people should know that, cutter." She said the last word lovingly, almost like an endearing nickname.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune was up and walking the next day. Her muscles ached, but she found that if she was careful, she could sit down, stand up, and move around with only minimal difficulty. Súndavar discovered a tiny scar, right above her heart, but other than that she was unscathed.

Lenori had appointed herself Rune's guardian, going everywhere with her, never leaving her side.

"Where's Eridor?" Rune asked at the breakfast table.

Everyone exchanged hesitant glances.

Rune caught them. "He's…he's dead, isn't he?"

Vanir was the first to speak. "When an animal wounds an elf in Du Weldenvarden, it is assumed the animal was acting in self defense. The elf is at fault. Here, there are no such laws. Your horse threw you off—"

"I _fell_ off!" Rune exclaimed. "I fell off because I thought I could race but I couldn't! It was _my_ fault."

Shay stepped in, putting a hand on Vanir's shoulder. "Rune," she said, "Be that as it may, Eridor was considered feral. His left hind hoof clipped your chest. You were stepped on by another racer. The racer was charged with assault fined, and his horse was hamstringed. It's Tabor's law."

"What about Eridor?"

"He disappeared. Ran off, after the race. Several people tried to catch him, but they couldn't."

"We'll get you another horse, Rune," Eragon said softly. "The fine—"

"I don't want _another horse_!" Rune cried. "I want _Eridor!_ No one would say, _'we'll get you another **dragon**' _to you!" she started sobbing into her hands.

Eragon broke off, staring at her.

Shay and Lenori shared an understanding glance.

"She'll be alright," Shay whispered in Eragon's tapered ear. "She's just getting her—"

"I am not!" Rune screamed. "I am not! I haven't since my night in the glade with Eragon! I _am not_!" with that, she got up from the table, fleeing as quickly as she could. The door slammed behind her.

"Now look what you've done!" Súndavar yelled at Eragon. "You've gone and upset her!"

"I—"

Ieran laid a hand on Eragon's shoulder, then Súndavar's. "Both of you, calm down."

"I'm going to talk to Rune," Súndavar huffed.

"No, you aren't."

Everyone looked at Vanir in surprise.

"I'll talk to her."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Vanir sat down next to Rune by the oak tree. She was staring into the distance. Neither acknowledged the other.

The silence dragged on.

"What?" Rune asked finally.

Vanir shrugged. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible."

"I mean about Eragon and everything," the elf man said. "Not about your wounds."

"In that case : Terrible."

There was silence.

"Eragon was only trying to comfort you," Vanir said. "Why get so angry at him?"

"Because he…I don't know."

"He loves you like a sister," Vanir said. "You should apologize for being angry at him."

"How can I be anything _but_ angry at him? What if I carry his child?"

Vanir shook his head. "You would know, by now, believe me."

"And how would you know? You don't have children."

"I could tell, if you were with child, Rune. Believe me. You are not."

Rune started crying again. "I dream of Galbatorix at night," she said, "He tells me that I am everything he wanted in a daughter. What if that's true?"

"You share many of Galbatorix's qualities," Vanir admitted. "You are stubborn, willful, strong, courageous, and have a clear definition of what you want. But you also share Lycona's qualities. Her goodness is in you."

Rune paused to think about this. "Vanir?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what we must do?"

Vanir nodded. "I take no joy in such knowledge, but yes. I know what we must do."

"I think we should leave tonight."

Vanir looked at her, and saw the steel in her eyes. "You're right," he said. "So shall it be."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Ieran."

"Yes?"

"Are you journeying with us, from here on?" Vanir asked.

The young man shrugged. "Perhaps. If I am welcome."

Súndavar opened his mouth to protest, but Vanir cut him off. "You are welcome if you swear loyalty to our cause. You must be one of us."

"_My heart is united with that of you and your mission_," Ieran said in the ancient language. "_So mote it be._"

Vanir nodded in satisfaction.

Súndavar was hitting his head against the wall.

"Kill me," he said. "Just bloody kill me now."


	3. A Conference With Darkness

Ieran mounted his horse, settling into the saddle. Súndavar followed suit. His horse nickered softly at him, tossing its mane this way and that.

Rune looked at her party on their horses sadly.

"Mount up, Rune," Eragon said quietly. His voice was loving and understanding.

Rune dragged her sleeve across her eyes, before climbing into the saddle behind Súndavar. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and her chin tucked perfectly into the place where his neck met his shoulders. He didn't respond, besides going rigid against her.

"Rune, Ric gave you your own horse," Lenori whispered from the doorway. "We don't need them all."

Rune looked at her with a tiny smile. "The only horse for me is Eridor," she said. "I'll make do until I find him."

"If," Súndavar corrected starkly. "_If_ you find him."

"I will."

Tawnyclaw screeched from his perch in a tree outside the barn, reminding them all they were on a schedule. One by one, the party rode from the barn, into the moonlight.

Rune felt tears sliding down her cheeks, wetting Súndavar's tunic. He pretended not to notice.

"Why does it seem that everywhere we go we must leave those we love behind?" Rune asked him in his ear, voice little more than a whisper.

He shrugged slightly, giving no response. She sighed.

"So…so you've laid Eragon," he said finally. It wasn't a question, but an angry accusation.

Rune squeezed him tighter. "Maybe. I'm not sure."

"How can you not be sure?"

"I don't remember what happened," she murmured. "But I vowed it wouldn't happen again."

Súndavar looked at his hands, where his fingernails had dug into his palms. He released them and gripped the reins loosely. He didn't feel so rigid anymore, his back giving in to the curves of her body.

Rune touched his cheek. "You've changed, cutter."

"You have too."

"But you changed more. What happened?"

"Slate left," he responded flatly. "I can't feel him anymore."

"Eragon can't feel Saphira either."

Súndavar shrugged again. "Ieran says I have scars from spirits."

Rune kissed his neck – the only place she could, as she was sitting behind him – and pressed her cheek to him softly. "Even the deepest scars can heal, can't they?"

"Scars are there forever."

Rune's hands worked their way under his tunic, to the scar on his chest. "Like this one?" she asked, running her fingers over it.

He stiffened up again.

"What's wrong with you?" Rune asked. "Normally that would give you shivers."

"That's why you did it, isn't it?" he asked in monotone. "You _enjoy_ resisting me." He shook his head. "Rune, I'm sick of chasing you."

"Don't you love me anymore?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Rune blinked, startled. No one had ever rejected her before. Even in her early years, she had usually gotten what she wanted. After pulling Durza's hair and screaming at him, he _had_ used magic to make her a birthday cake. She had grown up a princess. No one had ever told her _no_.

She swung herself off the horse, not waiting for Súndavar to stop. Shay looked back, startled.

Rune mounted Ieran's horse, and the young man nodded. He looked back at his son. Súndavar felt his mind reaching out to him, but he blocked him out.

He wanted to go to sleep. He wanted to return to the white room with the warm sunlight and the beautiful girl who inhabited it. He wanted to hold her tightly and kiss her until he just died, right there in her arms. It would be so much easier.

Was loving Rune unfaithful to Lexi? Could you be unfaithful to someone who didn't exist?

_No,_ Súndavar thought. _No, I'm being unfaithful to **Rune**. I love Rune. Lexi is a dream. She doesn't matter._

But she did.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"What did he say to upset you so?"

Rune didn't answer right away. Ieran didn't push her.

"He doesn't love me," Rune snapped finally. "He said he's sick of chasing me." She felt her heart aching in her chest.

_Súndavar didn't love her!_

"He loves you, although he tries to convince himself otherwise," Ieran said. "He is going through something you cannot understand. Be patient with him, and he will return to you."

Rune sighed. "I remember you," she said, changing the subject to avoid more heartache. "You were always nicer than Durza."

"That isn't very difficult."

Rune laughed. "I suppose not," she said. "But you had different hair then. Like Súndavar's hair."

"Yes. Being a Shade changed me in many ways."

"You aren't a Shade anymore, are you?" Rune asked hesitantly.

"No," Ieran said with a shake of his head. "I am free. As Súndavar is free."

"Súndavar is changing."

"He is," Ieran agreed. "Both on the inside and the out."

"Why?"

Ieran shook his head. "I know not. He is not a Shade, but nor is he any longer what he was."

"A Rider?"

"As I said, I know not."

Rune sighed and settled in for a long ride.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_About that kiss."_

_Súndavar opened his eyes, relieved. It had taken him forever to fall asleep without the warmth of another body near him, but slumber had finally come. Lexi didn't look happy._

_Perhaps it would have been better if he stayed awake after all._

"_Kiss?"_

"_The one you gave me," she said._

_He turned red. "Oh. That one. What about it?"_

"_What were you thinking?"_

_Súndavar stepped away from her wrath. "…That I love you and want to be with you?"_

"_I'm **dead**, Súndavar. Dead people don't kiss live people." She threw her hands over her head. "Sún, that was a total idiot move."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because! I'm a memory! You can't fall in love with a memory. It will rob you of all your joy in **life**. Whatever happens here isn't **real**, Súndavar."_

"_Then it shouldn't matter."_

_Lexi sighed and plopped down on the floor, crossing her legs. "But it does."_

"…_How so?" he asked._

_Lexi shrugged. "I don't know. When you freed me…"_

"_What?"_

_She blinked her white eyes at him. "You freed me. From the Vault."_

_Súndavar frowned. "What?"_

_The blind girl cocked her head. "You freed me from the Vault, did you not?"_

"…_Not to my knowledge. What's the Vault?"_

"_It's where memories go," Lexi explained. "But I'm free now. Free to be with you. If you didn't free me, I wouldn't be here."_

"_I didn't free you. Could the Vault have…let you go?"_

"_No. That's not how it works."_

"_How does it work?"_

_She shrugged. "I do not know. But not like that."_

"_So **someone** must have freed you."_

"_Someone close to you," Lexi affirmed. "Someone whose wish is for you to see me again."_

"_Slate."_

"_Who?"_

"_Slate. My dragon."_

_Lexi blinked, then nodded. "Perhaps."_

_Súndavar sat down next to her. "So Slate is…Slate is at the Vault…?"_

"_The Vault of Souls," Lexi said with a nod. "It's the most beautiful place in the world, Sún. I won't say I was happy there, but I was close to it."_

"_So…so I can't kiss you anymore?"_

"_Kiss Rune. She deserves it, after all she's been through."_

_Súndavar looked away. "But…but isn't that like…I love you."_

"_And her."_

"_I'm not sure."_

_Lexi touched his chest with two fingers, running them across him before returning them to her lap. "You do. You love her more than you love me. I'm a memory. A half-forgotten whisper of a good thing. Be happy in the day, Súndavar, or you'll risk sleeping away your life. I'll always be here when you sleep. Enjoy your waking hours."_

_Súndavar nodded in understanding. "…Alright. You're right, I suppose."_

"_I often am," she said with a smile. "Now wake up. Rune deserves an apology. And the two of you need to have a serious talk."_

"_What?"_

"_Súndavar, she's…"_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Súndavar!"

Súndavar jerked awake. Lexi's voice faded instantly.

Rune was shaking him.

"What, finally decided you want to—"

"Ra'zac!" she interrupted, hissing. It was still dark, the moon shining down at them like a warder. Súndavar was fully alert in an instant. He reached for his sword.

"No," Rune whispered, laying a hand on his. "I'll take care of them. Wake Shay and Vanir."

Súndavar bit his lip. Rune kissed his lips quickly and darted away. Súndavar moved to comply and wake the elf and his lover.

Rune stepped from the shadows where the group was hidden beneath a great tree. The Ra'zac looked up at her. One cocked it's head, vile stench rolling over Rune in waves.

"Princesssssssssssssss."

Rune stared at them, straining to keep her face stony and contemptible. "You remember me, then?"

"But of courssssssssssssse."

She smiled cruelly. "Good. Take me to my father."

They looked at one another. Rune couldn't tell if the request surprised them. Could Ra'zac even be surprised?

One fished in the folds of its cloak for a moment, before sliding something across the ground to her. A tiny mirror reflected the moonbeams.

"Ssssssssssay hissssssss name," the one hissed at her, "and he will ssssssssee."

Rune picked up the mirror. She looked at the Ra'zac, then back at its shiny surface. Could she do it? The only person who she'd told about her plan was Vanir. The others wouldn't go along with it without a fight, she knew. She closed her eyes.

"Galbatorix," she said. Her voice didn't waver.

Rune felt the energy leave her in a rush. She gasped for air.

"It tends to do that, the first time. You'll get used to it, I am sure."

Rune's eyes opened. An all-too-familiar pair of eyes stared back at her from the depths of the mirror.

"I don't like you," she said out of sheer habit.

Galbatorix's eyes didn't give anything away. "Keeping up this connection long will kill you, dearest. Suppose I take the burdon?"

Rune wanted to say she could handle it, but already she could feel the energy draining from her. "Yes. Thank you."

She breathed a sigh of relief as the energy stopped sifting from her body.

"Now," Galbatorix continued, "I am most sure this connection is causing you a great deal of internal turmoil. I do not mind in the least if you do not waste time on small talk and convey to me your point. The simple fact that you are speaking to me from this mirror means that the Ra'zac have found you."

"They have."

"And, pray I ask, what is the reason _you_ are gracing my night with this conversation, rather than my deadly pet?"

Rune cleared her throat. "You know I want you dead."

"Yes. Of what consequence is this?"

"I believe it would be of mutual benefit for myself, Eragon, and those with us to…to join you in Uru'baen."

Surprise flickered in Galbatorix's eyes for a moment. "Oh? How so?"

"Because you want Eragon and Súndavar. And I want you dethroned."

"And if that is what you want, how do you expect me to willingly allow you back into my – your – home? Would that not be foolish on my part?"

"I'm not strong enough to kill you. You know that. Eragon and Súndavar need training – which you can provide. If you want them to join you, you're going to have to give them training at some point in time."

"And what assurance do _you_ have that I wouldn't simply kill you and keep your Rider friends captive?"

"Because they won't swear to you. We'll be entirely free to come and go as we please. If I die, they leave. And that leaves you without a female dragon."

Galbatorix smiled. It was not a happy smile. "Quite the little negotiator, aren't you? Say I agree to your terms, Rune. Then what?"

"When I become strong enough, I kill you. Or you manage to sway Eragon and Súndavar to your side. One of us wins, the other loses. No excess bloodshed, no innocent people dieing because of our struggle."

"Fair enough. You're beginning to sound like myself."

"I am nothing like you," Rune said simply. "I will never be like you. I hate you, and I _will_ kill you."

"Perhaps seeing me again will change your mind."

"Don't wager on it, father."

Galbatorix blinked, very, very, slowly. "Very well. It seems I'll be seeing you soon, little devil."

The mirror went blank. Rune tossed it back to the Ra'zac. "I'll get my friends," she said. "Stay here."

The Ra'zac glanced at one another, before nodding once.

Rune turned back to get her party.

_What have I gotten us into now?_


	4. Unfinished Questions, Unexpected Reunion

**Author's Note: Hey all. I just wanted to say, _please_ don't think Rune's a spoiled brat because of the last chapter. Well, you can if you _really_ want to, but I'd prefer not. :D See, I tried to portray her as shocked, hurt, and rather in disbelief, as she and Sunboy had feelings for each other practically since they met. If you've ever been dumped, you might know how it is. The fact that she was never really told 'no' just makes it worse for her. Forgive her? Hearts, Kittie**

"How do you know he won't simply kill us all?" Eragon cried angrily, hand reaching for his nameless blade as if to guard himself against Galbatorix even now.

"He's insane, not stupid," Rune said calmly, unflustered. She had known this was going to be their reaction. "He needs us. And, as much as we don't want to admit it, we need him."

"How so?" Ieran questioned, voice level. The former Shade didn't look upset about returning to the man who had nearly killed him. Instead, he was nodding quietly to himself.

"Eragon has told me about Murtagh's strength with magic. He healed a gash on Thorn's leg without even swaying. If Sundavar and Eragon can become that strong, we might have a chance."

"I won't swear loyalty to the scum of the ground," Súndavar snorted. "If you're asking me to do that, I might as well kill myself here and save Galbatorix the trouble."

"I'm not asking you to swear to him," Rune said quietly. "All I'm asking is that you control yourselves enough to be civil to him, receive the training he is willing to give. He is going to try and sway you to his side, but I have no doubt we can withstand that. Together."

Shay was very quiet.

"You're the tactical expert, Shay," Eragon said. "Please tell me this plan will work."

Shay blinked at him. "Lily is with Galbatorix."

Eragon hit himself in the forehead. "Alright. I see the good points of the plan. But are they not outweighed by the fact we are willingly traveling to the man who we are trying to defeat?"

"We were traveling to him all along," Ieran pointed out. "As I see it, this is a tactical disaster. If one of you falls to Galbatorix's wiles, it could tear you all apart. But if your hearts have enough strength to endure, then I say, by all means, go ahead."

Rune took a deep breath. "There is one more thing."

"What?"

"I have someone loyal to us inside the palace already."

"What?" Súndavar cried in surprise.

"Shruikan."

Eragon's eyes bulged. "Are you completely _insane_? Perhaps you take after your father after all! Shruikan is the very dragon who took down countless generations of Riders! He is the—"

"He is a pawn," Rune said softly. "He was violated and twisted by Galbatorix, like countless others. His heart is not dark, Argetlam."

"And you'd know."

Rune touched Eragon's shoulder. "Brother, why can't you trust me on this fact? He could have killed us when we were caught in the castle in Uru'baen after the tournament, could he not have? Yet he did not. He could have killed us when he came to Ellesmera with Thorn, could he not have? Yet he did not. His heart, although not pure for the dark magic Galbatorix has desecrated him with, is more gold than iron."

Eragon blinked at her. "As you wish, Princess."

"Besides, Galbatorix will know what's happening to Súndavar. Maybe he can even turn it around. I think going to my father might be our only hope. For all of us."

Súndavar looked at his hands with his Shade-eyes. "Oromis would murder us here and now if he knew what we were about to do."

Rune smiled. "It is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission," she said. She held out her hand. "Who is with me?"

Shay placed her hand on Rune's first. "For Lily."

Súndavar followed. "For Lexi."

Vanir placed his over theirs. "For Alana."

"For Freoh," Ieran said.

Eragon rolled his eyes. "For the love of goodness."

Rune smiled.

"And for Alagäesia!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_It is nigh time you returned to those who share your hearts,_ Matrix said to the younger dragons, golden eyes flickering in the reflected moonlight off the Place of Love's mosaic. _You ache for them._

Slate snorted smoke.

Saphira glanced at him, then back at Matrix. _How do we find them? Without our connections, are they not lost to us?_

_Of course not. Your wings will tell you the way,_ Matrix said. _I cannot lead you this time. You must lead yourself._

Saphira blinked, then nodded. _Come Slate,_ she called, taking to the skies. Slate reluctantly followed.

Saphira looked at the younger dragon. _Does not your heart soar with the prospect of seeing Súndavar again?_

Slate shrugged. _I do miss him_, he said. _But we were never as close as you were to Eragon._

_Because of his cutting?_

Slate met her eyes, then looked away. _Perhaps. Or maybe I made the wrong choice._

_Why do you say that?_

Slate shook his head. _No reason,_ he said. _Where were you last night?_

_You're not a very good subject-changer, Slate._

_Answer the question._

Saphira wasn't sure exactly how much to tell him. She herself was unsure what had happened and the meaning of the words she heard sung in life-song as she slept with her nose to the Motherstone.

_I was restless,_ she said. _I am eager to set my eyes on Eragon again._

_You are beginning to talk like Matrix,_ Slate laughed. _So formal._

Saphira returned his laugh with a light-hearted lick of flame and a chuckle of her own. _Well, she is mighty, isn't she?_

_She is. What do you suppose will become of her?_

_Whatever do you mean?_

Slate frowned. _Saphira, Matrix belongs to a generation of dragons that is dead and gone. She has no mate. Eventually, she will die._

_Perhaps. Or perhaps she'll stay with us._

_There isn't much of a chance of that. She hates humans. She said she could smell them on us, like a plague, remember?_

_Don't you think if she met Rune and he others she would change her mind?_

Slate shook his head. _No. I don't._

_Don't be pessimistic. Suppose she mates with Glaedr. That's possible, is it not?_

_We don't know her age, or if she would even possibly be attracted to Glaedr_, Slate pointed out. _Saphira, perhaps…I have been thinking._

Saphira spun onto her back _About what?_

…_I've been thinking about being a dragon._

Saphira's eyes brightened visibly. _Oh?_

_I've been thinking that perhaps it's time that we carried out our duty to our species. Our lives are both in danger, if we return to our Riders._

_If?_

_When. What I mean is, if you die without an egg, dragons and hence Riders are doomed. Perhaps…_

_Perhaps what?_ She knew what he was asking. Her heart beat in her chest as she watched Slate intently with her dragon eyes. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, nervous, and perhaps a bit afraid. He met her eyes hesitantly.

_Saphira?_

_Yes?_

…_I would like to…er…ask you…and if you say no, it is alright. But I just thought I would ask. Will you—_

Slate was interrupted by an otherworldly scream.

_Lethyrblaka!_ Matrix cried, her voice the most urgent Slate and Saphira had ever heard it be. The wine-colored dragon dove, and the draclings saw the reason on the horizon.

Black forms, demon images. Dark as hate and malice, with an aura that made Saphira sick to her stomach.

_Lethyrblaka._

Saphira caught Slate's eyes. _If we die?_

_Yes?_

_I love you._

With that, she beat her wings twice as fast, hurtling towards the creatures with all her strength.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was Sundavar who saw them first. Three figures, far enough away to look small, but close enough to look dangerous and unfriendly.

"What are they?" he asked, his fingers clutching the leather of the lethyblaka's saddle tightly for fear of falling off. Rune shook her head in wonderment, glancing at Eragon.

The Rider shrugged.

The shock and fear of riding the lethyrblaka had worn off long ago. Although Vanir looked quite a bit ill, they had all resigned that the demon-bats were the fastest way to reach Galbatorix.

It was Tawnyclaw who identified the approaching forms first.

_Come Saphira! Come Slate! Come, come!_

Rune stared at him. Her green eyes widened in recognition and shock.

Eragon and Sundavar's faces mirrored her own.

_Dragonssssssssss!_ Hissed the lethyrblaka hatefully. Thousands of years of rivalry was not easily put aside.

The Ra'zac looked from their parents to the incoming dragons, eyes blinking. They glanced at the Riders.

"Land," the taller one demanded.

For a moment, Rune thought the lethyrblaka was going to make him say please and use his manners like a good boy. Instead, it shrieked in annoyance, and dove downwards, almost knocking its child to its death below. The Ra'zac cawed like a raven being boiled, and clung tightly to the ruff of fur, feathers, and slime that encircled the creature's neck.

The lethyrblaka came to a neat stop, the Ra'zac flying off of it and into a tree, where it laid, crumpled, for a moment, before getting up and dusting itself off. It circled the tree and sat down, like a child after being punished.

_Call your dragon, boy_, it demanded Eragon, eyes full of hate and darkness. _Call it before I lose control and kill it. Or you._

_I don't have a connection with her any longer. It was broken._

The lethyrblaka eyed him with a mixed expression. _For your ssssssake, I hope you are ssssspeaking falsssssssehood._

Rune slipped her hand into Eragon's. "Call her," she said. "She'll hear."

Eragon smiled hesitantly and closed his eyes. Rune squeezed his hand. He searched his entire mind for a tiny trace of a connection, finding none. Instead, he for a memory of a connection in the corner of himself. The memory was so strong – everything Saphira had ever said, everything they had ever shared, all combined into a single strand of power --he held onto it, hoping it would be enough.

_Saphira!_

He felt Rune's strength added to his own as he called. The girl swirled into him, adding her voice in a brilliant burst of colors in his mind.

_Saphira!_

In a rush, it was back. His mind tickled.

_You do not know how much I have longed to hear my name spoken by you._

_Saphira!_ Eragon barely felt the tears of joy rolling down his cheeks. Rune's hand slipped away from his, but he didn't notice. He was too caught up in his joy. Saphira. Her mind sang in his own.

_Are you being held captive? The lethyrblaka, I saw them._

_I'm fine,_ he said. In the quickest way he could, he told Saphira of Rune's plan.

_The princess is either very brave or very foolish._

_Of perhaps both,_ Eragon agreed. _Can you find us?_

_My wings will follow my heart,_ Saphira answered. _Thank Wind and Fire we're together again._


	5. A Talk of Hate and Lack Thereof

**Author's Note: Hey all. Sorry this update is a bit late, you know how holiday season is. Presents to buy, presents to unwrap, wrapping to throw away…the whole big thing. I went 'home' (if America is home, which I'm not sure) for the holidays, and after that everything was a mess of airlines and taxis and all. We had a party at school, also, so I am in no shortage of gifts. My mom got me the most beautiful ball gown I've ever seen, to wear to the upcoming school formal. It's truly magnificent. I'm thinking of giving Rune one like it in an upcoming chapter, so be on the lookout for that. My father got me a handcrafted saddle for my wonderful and noble steed, Bloodbäne (spelled with two dots :D) Thanks also to Coffee Grounds (I believe it was her) and numerous others whose reviews inspired Matrix's initial response to Rune's plan….anyways. I've said too much already. Anyone who wants to hear me babble on about my life, just ask and I'm more than happy to tell. But for now, onto the story! Hearts, Kittie**

_I am Matrix._

The dragon regarded the party with a mistrustful golden eye, wine scales reflecting the sun's light like mirrors. Eragon was wrapped in Saphira's tail, as the dragon had proclaimed she was not letting go of him until they reached Galbatorix. Sundavar stood near – but not too near – to Slate. The two had said little, and the dragon gave no sign he recognized or cared about the change in his Rider.

The Ra'zac and Lethrblaka sat close by. The Lethrblaka were chewing on a carcass – of what, Rune couldn't tell and didn't want to – whereas their children were rocking on their haunches, watching Matrix suspiciously.

_Where isssssss your Rider, dragonnnnnnnnn?_ One of the Lethrblaka hissed in question.

Martix snorted smoke and a lick of flame in the creature's direction, starting the Hlf-consumed body on fire. _I am bound to none,_ she snapped, _and I prefer not to be quizzed by animals such as yourself. Who are you to question me?_

_Animalssssssss?_ The other Lethrblaka hissed the word, an angry warning. Matrix seemed unconcerned.

_Keep quiet, bloodhound of the King,_ she told them boldly.

Saphira threw Matrix a warning glance. The elder dragon ignored her pointedly.

Rune stepped forward. "It may not be easy," she said softly, "But for now, we are friends. I suggest we start acting like it."

_Who are you, child? _Matrix asked, _You smell of darkness and earth and moonlight._

"I am Rune, Princess of Uru'baen, Daughter of Galbatorix."

_Simply Rune will do. Well met._

"And to you, Great One."

_Matrix is the name I answer to. Such silly titles as the one you have dubbed me with are lost to my soul._

"I apologize."

_There is no need. I was simply informing you that as a dragon I see no need for foolish codes of formality. Matrix my name is and that I shall be called. It makes things simpler, does it not? Such a burden, to remember titles. This one King, that one Lord. In the end, they all bleed the same blood. They all die and become memories to be locked away in Hope for eternity. None is greater than another in the truest sense, is he?_

Rune blinked, unsure what to say. "You are wise," she stated finally. "Is she not wise, _Vanir_?"

The arrogant elf looked up sheepishly at Rune, then reverentially at Matrix. "You are, _skulblaka_," he agreed. "I know you care not for titles, but I bow before you." He bent fluidly at the waist. In all, he seemed to be taking the appearance of another dragon rather well. Except, that is, for the fact that Shay could feel his heart going wild beneath his tunic and his breath seemed to come only when he remembered to breathe so.

Rune glanced at Slate and Sundavar, then at Eragon and Saphira. "Riding the lethrblaka will bring us to Galbatorix by noon tomorrow," she said, "and that's if we stop for the night. I suggest we move, as it is in our best interest, and time is short."

Matrix's tail coiled. _Galbatorix is the man who we seek? Throw your soul to the lion, you do! He will consume you and drink your life-blood, with or without use of a glass! Your very life he will pour out upon the ground! Make a deal with the devil, you do! Foolishness! There is not a chance of success!_

"Foolishness, or bravery?" Rune countered boldly.

Matrix blinked.

"If you are so against it, fly away, dragon. Fly away and let Alagäesia fall! Fly away a coward and let it be known that it was you whose fire and blood you did not lend to the cause."

The others gaped at her. What had gotten into her, taunting a dragon who must have been Glaedr's age or more?

Matrix smiled brilliantly, showing off white fangs. _You have steel in your heart,_ she said. _You have fire and wind in you._ Her tail uncoiled. _But your accusations are false,_ she grinned wider. _I am not against your plan._

"But you—"

_Foolishness, it may be. Offering your soul to the lion, it may be. But even lions can be tamed. And better a brave fool than a cowardly magician. Bravery makes you offer your heart so. Bravery is the cousin of Hope. Without one, there cannot be the other. So, Rune, _Matrix blinked her gold eyes, _I offer myself to your cause. Galbatorix will fall._

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_I don't trust her_.

Saphira looked back at Eragon, flapping her wings. Rune, Vanir, Shay, and Ieran still were astride the lethrblaka, but the dragon and Rider were reunited and refused to use any other method of transfer. She stared at him inquisitively.

_You don't know her._

_She is too…_Eragon seemed unable to put his instinct into words. _I just don't trust her._

_Matrix is a great and mighty dragon,_ Saphira said stubbornly. _If we live a hundred thousand years I question if I'll ever be as great as she is._

Eragon frowned. _Does it not seem strange that at first she seemed…she seemed offended at the very thought of having a Rider. But then…then she offered herself to Rune. She practically swore to her. Why such a change?_

_Perhaps she realized you are not as bad as she thought._

_Or perhaps she has other motives._

_Perhaps she came to see how brave Rune was,_ Saphira said. _She came to see that humans are not all cowards. _

_She seems to like all things ironic,_ Eragon observed. _I wouldn't begin to know how to please her. If I was cautious, she would say I was cowardly, whereas if I was foolish, she would say I was brave. If I held back, she would say I was weak, but if I let my anger get the best of me, she would say I was using my emotions as a positive drive. Does that not seem strange to you?_

Saphira snorted. _She is wise in a way you cannot understand._

_And you can?_

_I can try. She…she looks beyond things as they appear to be, into what they are. She is a dragon, Eragon. A true dragon._

_You are a true dragon._

Saphira beat her wings, going into a tight swirl before answering. _She is so much stronger than I am. She showed me things I never thought I would see._

_What sorts of things?_

Saphira was silent.

_Come, Saphira. Bonds do not keep secrets from one another. Oromis told us as much, did he not?_

The dragon sighed. _She showed me what it means to be free. She showed me how dragons came about, and what Hope truly is. _She turned her head slightly to glimpse him out of one eye.

_Did such things…_Eragon wasn't sure how to ask.

Saphira knew. _They made me long for you more, little one._

Eragon smiled at her, and laid against her neck. His cheek pressed into her scales, and he felt at home. For a moment, it didn't matter that they were walking into the lion's den. For a moment, the world wasn't crashing around him. For a moment – just a moment – everything seemed…_perfect_? No, not perfect. For that single moment, everything felt…right. Just right.

_You have changed,_ Saphira told him softly. _You must tell me everything that transpired in my absence._

Eragon sat up again and ran his fingers over her scales. _I wouldn't know where to begin._

_Begin with Rune. The two of you act different. Has something changed between you?_

Eragon was hoping that would be the _last_ thing they covered. _I…I still love her,_ he said. _But…I love her as a sister. I don't think there is anything romantic going on between us any longer._

_Why such a change?_

…_We both overstepped our boundaries,_ Eragon answered, shying around the subject. _We decided mutually it would be better to stay well enough away and not let our hearts toy with our duties._

_By overstepped, you mean the two of you mated?_

Eragon looked away, even though Saphira wasn't looking at him. _That's the thing,_ he said. _We aren't sure. I cannot remember, and neither can she. But we got close. Too close for comfort._

Saphira glanced at Slate, who was flying with Sundavar – and not looking particularly happy about it – and nodded. _I understand,_ she said quietly.

There was a companionable silence between the two for a moment, before Saphira spoke again.

_Rune has changed too,_ she said. _There…there is more…there is more life to her._

_What?_

Saphira shrugged, as if it was rather silly. _She was always full of life,_ she said. _But now…she still is, but more so. As if something was added to her._

Eragon thought about this for a moment. He didn't like where his thoughts led, so he changed the subject. _Saphira, I am still concerned about Matrix's loyalty. You must see what I'm saying. Strange that she would change her mind so quickly._

_You are saying she has ulterior motives._

_Yes._

_And what is wrong with that? _Saphira asked. _Why does it matter how or why Galbatorix dies if he is dead?_

Eragon thought about this for a minute. _You sound a bit like her. It's the simple, blunt truth. You're right. It doesn't much matter. Dead is…well, dead is dead._

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The dragon and the Rider were silent. Unlike Eragon and Saphira's, this silence was not companionable. There was nothing happy or peaceful about this silence.

_So,_ Slate said.

"So," Sundavar returned. He didn't use his mind.

_You are different._

"You are too."

Slate flapped his wings harder. The silence returned. Both seemed to want to say more, but it was as if neither could quite swallow their pride enough to do so.

_Have you mated with Rune yet?_ Slate asked, grasping for straws of a conversation.

"No. Have you with Saphira?"

_There is nothing between Saphira and I,_ Slate denied. _She is a mighty dragon, but my elder. And her heart lies solely with Eragon and the cause._

_I suppose that's good then,_ Sundavar said, slipping into thought-speak like a comforting safety-blanket. _Devotion is good. Maybe when it's all over the two of you could…lay eggs, or something._

_She would do the laying._

_Yeah. Whatever it is you dragons do._

Slate rolled his eyes, but did a rather lazy flip for the fun of it, like they used to. _Oromis gave you lessons in both dragon practices and those of your own kind,_ he pointed out. _Not only do you know full well 'whatever it is we dragons do', but you also know exactly how to make full use of your pathetic—_

_Aw, shuddup!_ Sundavar cried good-naturedly, shoving Slate with his palm. The dragon pretended the blow had hit him hard, swerving dangerously and careening through the sky. Sundavar gave a yelp of surprise and clung tightly to him.

_I cannot stay mad at you, Shadow,_ Slate admitted when they had righted themselves.

_A truce, then?_

Slate flipped in agreement. _A truce. What shall we seal it with?_

_If you were Rune, I'd say a kiss._

_I'm not Rune, and I might blow smoke down your throat if you tried,_ Slate said. _So perhaps you should think of something else._

Sundavar thought for a moment. _How about a secret? _He said. _You tell me one, and I'll tell you one. Sound alright?_

Slate accepted the offer. _Do you go first, or shall I? _He asked.

_You can._

The dragon flew upside-down for a full minute, enjoying the feeling of Sundavar's hands scrabbling to find and keep purchase, before stating his secret. _While I was gone? I…I doubted my choice in you as a Rider. I still…I still do._

Sundavar blinked. _Quite the secret._

_I'm sorry. But I can't help but wonder if we're meant for each other after all. We don't seem to get along as well as Eragon and Saphira do._

_I'm sure Eragon and Saphira have their fights, _Sundavar said, but he sounded unsure. _Besides, that's what makes the two of us perfect for one another. We don't always agree, so we get to see things from both points of view._

_When you see it that way, I suppose it would be a good thing we don't get along,_ Slate admitted. _Now it's your turn. Tell me a secret._

Sundavar took a deep breath. _While you were gone?_

_Yes?_

_I've been dreaming of Alexia. The dead girl. I've fallen in love with her._

_With a dream?_

_Yes. But it's…it's more than just a dream_, Sundavar defended. _She's so…she's so real. She's just as beautiful – more beautiful – than I remember her, and wiser, and gentler, and…I love her._

_You shouldn't love dead people,_ Slate said. His voice was so solemn, they both started laughing.

_I missed you, Slate._

_I missed you too, Shadow._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune snuggled close to Sundavar by the fire, a blanket around her shoulders. He looked at her questioningly.

"I thought I told you—"

She blinked at him. "Sundavar, even if you don't love me, we're friends. Like in Melian. We slept side by side there, did we not?"

He nodded slowly, not understanding. Rune's eyes flew to the lethrblaka, then to the Ra'zac, then back to his face.

The look told him all he needed to know. She was frightened to sleep alone, and she and Eragon we no longer indulging in such. He sighed and smiled. "As you wish," he said kindly. He reached around her back and pulled her close, kissing her forehead. She smelled good, just like he remembered. Funny, how she always smelled good. He wondered if she would smell as good after a battle. He guessed he didn't want to find out, preferring to think that she smelled perpetually good, no matter the circumstances. Wait – since when did he analyze how she smelled? Even when he was in love with her, he hadn't done that.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Have you found Slate?" she asked.

Sundavar wasn't sure what she meant. He was right there…

"I mean…have the two of you found one another again?"

Oh.

"I think so," Sundavar answered with a smile.

She smiled back.

Then the smile fell off her face. The Ra'zac was approaching the fire, a mirror in his hand. He – or she – stepped carefully around the flames, before handing the mirror to Rune.

She nearly dropped it.

"No one likes a klutz," Galbatorix pretended to scold with a smile. "Don't drop it. The mirror is worth more than you've probably ever seen."

Rune doubted that. In a moment of déjà vu, she recalled a young man holding her hand and pointing to great stacks of gold.

_Galbatorix…treasury…hoard…crowns upon crowns…vast, is it not?_

The image and jumbled words faded, and she blinked confusedly.

"This connection is not draining me," she said stupidly, caught up in the memory still. "Have you taken it upon yourself?"

"Me? Forbid the thought," Galbatorix said with a shake of his head. "Your dear friends the lethrblaka are providing the energy for this wonderful little chat."

Rune glanced at the bat-creatures. Neither looked particularly happy about having the fact pointed out.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"Nothing much. Just a glimpse of your face," Galbatorix said rather cheerily. Had he been drinking?

"Had too much wine, father?"

"Not in the least," Galbatorix said. "Simply hurry, dearest. You don't know how I _long_ to meet your Rider friends. I'm sure you'll settle in to palace life quite quickly."

With that the mirror went blank.

Rune tossed it over the Ra'zac's heads, hoping to make them scramble for it, but instead one of them jumped, snatched it from the air, and returned it to it's pocket before hitting the ground again. Rune grumbled.

"That was rather odd, don't you think?" Sundavar pointed out.

Rune nodded. "…Very odd. He wouldn't…it's rather unlike him, isn't it?"

The two were baffled. It wasn't until they were curled around one another, legs entangled and chest to chest, like twin puppies that had fallen asleep while playing, that Rune thought of the purpose of the call.

_I didn't say I hated him,_ she thought with horror.

_I didn't say it because it isn't true._


	6. Evil on the Horizon

**Author's Note: Eh, is having a hard time with the alerts again. Oh well…this chapter goes out to the BRILLIANT, the AMAZING, the MAGNIFICENT lyokolady. I am forever and ever in her debt. She coloured me a picture of Rune, sitting on the castle wall with a beautiful dress on. It's posted on her devianart account, so check her out. She's WONDERFUL. There's a link to the picture in my profile. A thousand hearts, hugs, blinkie smiley faces, and favs to you, Caitlin. I wuv u! Hearts, Kittie**

"_Did you talk to Rune yet?"_

_Sundavar hated the way Alexia jumped into things so quickly. He was still on the very edge of sleep when he heard her voice, still aware of the flickering fire, aware of Rune's warmth against his chest, her nose on his collarbone. He could still hear Slate's soft breathing as he slumbered near Saphira, hear the lethrblaka sniffling and snorting at their offspring. He waited for the familiar room with the arch windows to fade in before he answered._

"_I've talked to her plenty," he said. "But not about anything important."_

_Lexi sniffed. "I told you to talk to her," she said. "Did I not?"_

_Sundavar nodded, making sure to keep far away from her, in case she would get mad at him again. His eyes flew around the room, and for the first time, he wondered where he was. Such a room couldn't exist in his own mind, could it? Such beauty? Surely not. But he couldn't be far from himself, either, or he would certainly know._

"_Where am I, Lex?" he asked, moving to stare out the window. He reached his arm out, attempting to feel the sunrays. He felt nothing._

"_Stay away from the window," Lexia warned. "You don't want to fall out."_

_Sundavar sat on the sill. "Why not?" he asked, "What would happen?"_

"_You'd be taken to Oblivion," she said. "Not even memories return from Oblivion. You would be obliterated for all of eternity, without any trace left. Not even Hope could save you."_

"_Not a very pretty picture," he admitted, getting off the windowsill and peeking out the window sheepishly. Alexia came to stand by him. She touched his shoulder and looked out at the endless blue sky. Sighing, she turned away._

"_Hey, Lex?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_If you're here, in this room, do you think you could return to your body?"_

_Lexi frowned. "Have you learned nothing? I am not here, in this room. This does not exist. I am a memory."_

"_But you feel so…so real," Sundavar protested. "There has to be more than just dreams, doesn't there?"_

_Lexi nodded. "Of course. I've said as much, have I not? I am no longer, but a trace of me, a trace of what I was, my memory, will always be there. Upon my death, this memory, my life – not my soul, mind you, my life – was locked in Hope. Now it is free. But I have lost the part of me that exists in the mortal realm."_

_Sundavar looked at the ground. "Oromis told me that everyone who plays with magic to turn back death's clock has been claimed by it itself. Do you suppose this is because the life was locked in Hope?"_

"_Perhaps. I never knew magic. I still don't."_

"_So maybe, since you're no longer locked in Hope, I could bring you back."_

_Lexi's eyes looked torn. "What about Rune?" she asked. "Rune loves you, and you love her. It's risky, besides. My body is buried with the Varden, wrapped in herbs and linen. I doubt there is little left of it."_

_Sundavar found it strange she would talk about her body as if it wasn't part of her. He knew she was no longer connected to it, but it still seemed…ironic. What was more ironic was that she was right – bodies didn't stay perfect, when they were dead and buried._

_All the same, he could tell she wanted to live again. She wanted to be bound to the mortal realm once more, feel the sun on her skin, and the wind in her hair._

_She frowned softly, closing her eyes. The girl seemed to make up her mind in an instant. "No," she said. "Not a chance, Sundavar. You could be sent to Hope yourself, or worse, Oblivion forever. I'll not allow you to play with death and life. Alagäesia needs you to be a hero."_

"_You can't stop me."_

"_I can stop talking to you at night."_

_Sundavar's mouth closed, and he nodded. "Fine," he agreed, not without reservation. "As you wish."_

"_I don't wish. Memories don't wish," she said sensibly. She bit her lower lip in a way Sundavar found extremely attractive. His eyes moved slowly over her body, taking in every beautiful curve of her. She noticed him staring. "Sún? Uhm," she looked at him. "Give me your hand."_

_He hesitantly placed his hand in hers. She pressed it to her chest, between her breasts. "Tell me what you feel," she said softly._

_He felt nothing but the silkiness of her dress, the softness of her. He shook his head. "I don't know."_

"_Do you feel a heartbeat?"_

"_No," he admitted._

"_That's because I don't have one." She placed his hand against his own chest. "What do you feel now?"_

"_My heart."_

"_We're too different, Sundavar."_

_He caught her hand as she pulled it away. He pressed it to her cheek. "Slate says that differences are good."_

"_Ours is too great, Sundavar," Lexi said._

"_Then why does my heart pound when I'm around you?"_

_Lexi sighed and placed her hands squarely on his shoulders. "Sundavar, your heart doesn't pound when you are around me. Do you want to know what your heart is doing? It's pumping your blood, _slowly, slowly, _because you're **sleeping**. It's beating against Rune's in unison. It is inches away from hers, slow, steady, almost silent. That is what your heart is doing."_

_Sundavar touched a lock of her hair, and she pulled away from him. The tiny dress she wore rippled over her form as she backed slowly away._

"_Wake up, Sundavar," she said. "And talk to Rune. She's…she needs you to talk to her."_

_Sundavar tried to cling to sleep, but couldn't. The room faded, and he was alone._

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune woke up feeling sick to her stomach. She rolled away from Sundavar, clutching her stomach. Slate looked up at her.

_Be you alright?_

Rune nodded, before emptying the contents of her stomach into a bush. She groaned. The green and black dragon moved to her side, quicker than one of his size was expected to. He nudged her with his nose gently, letting her cling to him to steady herself and sit down.

_Rune? You're sick_.

She shook her head. "I'm not sick," she protested. "Last night's rabbit must have been bad, that's all."

Slate looked at her. He finally nodded. _Of course. I'll get your pack, so you can change your dress._

The dragon stepped through the camp, picking up Rune's bag in his mouth and returning with it. He shielded her discretely with his wings, in case the others might awaken while she changed.

Rune dug through her bag for a spare tunic – she had been given several by the elves at her party, all that time ago. Her hand found something hard in the bag, and she pulled it out. Eragon's gift. The tiny box made her smile. The little note – _Open when the time is right_ – was still there, scrawled in Eragon's penmanship. She tucked the gift in her bag and pulled out a evergreen tunic. Pulling it over her head, she braided her hair into a single, long braid, and tied a piece of fabric over her tapered ears.

"I'm ready, Slate," she said. "You can fold your wings again."

_A sudden recovery,_ the dragon commented. Rune laughed, smiling. It _was_ strange. One moment she was sick, the next she felt fine. Funny. Ah, well, there wasn't much she could do about it, and she just as well preferred to feel good over sick. Especially as today was the day.

The others had stirred. Vanir was putting out the last few coals of the fire, while Shay rolled their blankets into their packs. Vanir glanced up at her and blinked in surprise.

"Well, don't you look…._radiant_, today?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Really, Rune. I didn't think you carried cosmetics with you."

Rune frowned. "I'm not wearing any lip-paint or rouge," she said lightheartedly. "I haven't since my party night. And that was all magic, not paint."

Vanir shrugged.

"He's right, Rune," Shay commented. "You look…different. Happier, and prettier."

Rune grinned. "Where's my Rider loves?" she asked.

"Eragon left to relieve himself," Shay snorted, "and Sundavar's sleeping. The imp."

The lethrblaka hissed. _We fly,_ they said as one, _We fly now. Sssssssunssssssssset bringsssssssss Uru'baen._

Rune felt an involuntary shiver go through her. She went over to Sundavar, who was not, in fact, asleep, but laying with his eyes open, staring into nothing.

"You alright?" she asked. "The bats say we must leave."

He looked at her. "Oh. Good light, Rune. You look different." She offered his hand and helped him to his feet. Their skin brushed, and Rune turned red. Sundavar scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"Do you want to fly with Slate and I?" he offered. "You must tire, riding around on those…things."

Rune's eyes brightened. "Really?" she asked, "You'd do that?"

"Sure," he said with a nod. "It'll be fun."

Matrix still laid, curled, at the edge of camp. She opened an eye and glared at them all. _To the Lion's Den we go, _she said, unfolding her wings and standing up. She launched herself into the air.

The lethrblaka hissed at her, then looked at Shay and Vanir. _Mount, _they ordered, barely waiting for the couple to climb aboard before they took off. Eragon returned in short order, and mounted Saphira.

Sundavar took Rune's hand, helping her onto Slate. The beautifully crafted saddle fit them both perfectly – it was made for a full grown man, not two youths. Rune sat behind Sundavar, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

_Hold on, little Princess,_ Slate bid. _You are in for the ride of your life._

Sundavar turned to grin at her. "Did I ever mention Slate is rather addicted to flying upside-down?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So you two have to marry one another in order for there to be any more lethrblaka?" Shay asked the Ra'zac nearest to her, not really caring the answer.

The Ra'zac narrowed its eyes, then nodded briskly. "We musssssssst mate."

"Aren't you brother and sister?"

The Ra'zac glanced at one another.

"Yessssssss."

"Must suck to be you," Shay said noncommittally. "Of course, when the Riders return you're going to be exterminated anyways, so I guess it won't matter, hmm?"

Vanir pinched Shay – hard – and shot a look at the Ra'zac to see if they were offended. They didn't seem to be.

"You put far too much hope in dreamsss, little human," one said. "What shall come to be, will be."

Shay shrugged. Vanir clung to the lethrblaka, staring at Matrix in the distance.

"She is beautiful," he said absently. "A greater dragon I've never seen."

"You haven't seen many dragons," Shay pointed out.

Vanir glanced at her, humor in his eye. "You don't know my age, _kona dauthleikr,_" he said. "Perhaps I have seen many dragons."

Shay snorted. "An old elf would be wise and humble, like Oromis. You're no older than a mortal, Vanir."

He laughed. It was the first time Shay could remember him doing so in her presence. Even in passion, he had never laughed in her memory. "True. My age is a bit less than the majority of my brethren." He smiled at her. "Although it is also considerably greater than your own, Everwood."

"I'll manage," she said. "They say some things get better with time, don't they?"

The Ra'zac hissed at them, making it clear they tired of hearing the couple flirt amiably with one another and discuss things of no practical use. Vanir kissed Shay's lips softly, and turned back around.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Rune is coming?"

Galbatorix glanced at Murtagh, who was pacing nervously. "Aye, the little demon is returning to her birthplace. Of what consequence is it to you?"

Murtagh frowned slightly. "You have things ready for her, then? A room, clothes, lessons—"

"I said she was returning," Galbatorix snarled. "Not that I was adopting her."

"…Wouldn't that be a bit besides the point, seeing as you're her—"

"Quiet, son of Morzan," the king snapped. He took a sip of the wine on his desk. It was a small sip, the sip of a man who was in control. He held the wine in his mouth for a moment, enjoying the taste of it, before swallowing. "She is bringing your dear youngest with her," he said. "I'm sure that will be a welcome reunion."

Murtagh's eyes widened a bit. "Eragon is coming here?"

Shruikan clicked his claws. _Go, Rider,_ he said, stepping in for his Rider. _Make yourself ready. They arrive at dusk._

Murtagh nodded and left the room.

"Why did you excuse him?" Galbatorix asked the dragon. "I had other things to say to him."

_He does not need you toying with him,_ Shruikan said.

Galbatorix frowned. "You forget who is king, and who is beast."

_You forget where your strength comes from, and what you are,_ Shruikan wanted to say. But he didn't. Instead, the dragon bowed low, prostrating himself before his Rider. _Of course,_ he said, _Forgive me, your majesty._

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Lily, Rune's coming home."

The blonde girl looked up from making the bed. She tucked her hair behind her ears, cocking her head. "Oh?"

Murtagh nodded. "Yes. You know what this means, don't you?"

Shay's twin frowned in incomprehension. "That she's giving Galbatorix a chance to win the war and dooming Alagäesia in the process?" she shook her head. "Other than that, I can't begin to think of any other meaning."

Murtagh laid a hand on her shoulder. "It means…I think perhaps we should take a break for a while. Rune…"

"You love her," Lily shrugged. "I understand."

"I don't love her," Murtagh dismissed. "But she's special. I don't think I want to be romantically involved with anyone while she is here."

Lily smiled at him. "I don't mind," she said. "If she's coming…do you think Shay is coming with her?"

Murtagh shook his head. "I'm not sure. Perhaps. Galbatorix didn't tell me very much."

"He is a bit stingy in the information area, isn't he?"

Lily finished making the bed, and smoothed her dress out, before dusting off her hands. "Well," she continued, "I understand about taking a break. If Shay is coming, I doubt I'd have any time for you anyways." She said it as if she was joking, but Murtagh knew it was true nonetheless.

He smiled at her. "It's settled then."

"'Course, Rider," she said, waving it away. "Go have fun with your lady-love." She grinned. "Just not too much, or I might get jealous."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Sundavar, this is amazing."

Rune was pressed tightly against him, basking in the sun's last rays. The wind had tugged hair from her braid, and it wafted around her face in a red-brown halo. A smile was fixed on her face, and for an instant Sundavar felt as if they had never grown apart. He wanted to hold her and love her and be with her, just the two of them. Then the sun hit her face, reminding him of the sunrays in the little room.

His heart pulled.

Lexi was right, however. He couldn't dwell on the life he lived in his dreams. It would rob him of his joy.

"Rune?"

"Yes?" she answered.

"I…is there anything we need to talk about?"

Rune looked at him, unsure what to say. Then her eyes caught something on the horizon. Sundavar saw it too.

Slate spoke first.

_Uru'baen._


	7. A Meeting of Love and Hate

**Author's Note: Wow. Sorry this took me so long – I've been working on my art and have like NO writing time. Plus my mind is on my next series….well, just a note to say sorry, and a notice that this story is going to be shorter that the others – I never expected to make a fourth story, but the other one seemed….over. So it won't be SUPER long, but I hope it will get my story across…Hearts, Kittie**

Rune felt her stomach sink. Her arms involuntarily tightened around Súndavar's waist, and she buried her nose in the sweet boyish smell of his neck.

A silence had fallen over the group. None dared to speak – or were able to. The city on the horizon looked so frightening to Rune, who felt small and fragile compared to the evil held there.

Matrix blew flame to the heavens, her bane blossoming like a deadly flower. The wine-scaled dragon beat her wings and let out a bellow, diving towards the city.

The others followed with less vigor.

_What have I doomed us to? _Rune asked herself. _What terrible things lie for us behind these walls?_

oooooooooooooooooooooo

If King Galbatorix had had claws, he would have been clicking them. His eyes were intense and focused, and even without claws his fingertips drummed a steady, controlled pattern on his desktop. His wine was untouched in its glass.

Shruikan seemed as much on edge. The dragon's claws stayed sheathed, but his tail kept curling and uncurling, as if upon his stopping the world would come to an end.

Galbatorix looked every bit the untouchable, ruthless monarch he had been for a hundred years. By looking at the man, you could not tell of his heart going rather wild beneath his breast, nor of the light sweat that made his garments feel unnaturally warm.

_Lycona's child,_ he was repeating to himself in his head. _My child._

His heart skipped back, all those years ago, when he had held her in his arms for the first time. A tiny thing she had been, with her wide eyes – blue, at the time, like most children – and curling locks of ginger.

The king brushed such thoughts away. Had not that very child told him she had every intention of putting him to death? Had she not told of her hatred to him over and over again?

And yet she had lied.

It was strange, for him to feel any fondness towards her. Yet he couldn't help wonder if perhaps a bit of himself had ended up in her. She was Lycona's girl, Lycona's image so unadulterated that at times it made his head whirl, as if looking at the sun. But her heart – he had to be there, somewhere. A tiniest piece of him must have ended in her.

Why else would she be coming home, after all this time and change? Home. This castle.

If home was truly the place of the heart, then Rune was always home. She had with her all she loved and cared for. But a place, a place with history and memories…this was it. His castle held so many memories – both good and bad, though more of the latter.

Shruikan could sense his Rider's distress, sense the nagging doubt that plagued the man. But as there was no love between them – only duty – he said nothing to comfort him, and the King offered none of his thoughts.

It felt like a thousand summers had passed, when a frail face poked through the door. A slave. Galbatorix didn't look at him – such were supposed to stay out of his sight.

"They are here," the slave said in a deep, heavy voice through thick black lips. His black eyes danced over the king, black skin shining in the light of a torch, before he ducked out of the room.

_They are here._

With a sense of excitement and foreboding, Galbatorix stood. He could let Rune know nothing of his fondness for her – she was here for one purpose, and one purpose alone. Her Riders needed training.

And training they would receive.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune's fingers touched the cold stone of the wall. The rock was sweating, in the heat of the day, the water running down it. She ran her fingers through it, leaving a trail. Súndavar reached for her other hand.

She squeezed his hand tightly. _We'll be alright,_ her eyes said. But her brow was furrowed nervously.

_Death place,_ Tawnyclaw sighed from his perch on a coat of arms – the entrance hall was adorned with the crests of fallen men. The hawk's feathers were slightly askew, he was too nervous by far to preen himself.

_Little Thornessa._

Rune glanced, whirling and jumping at the same time. The black dragon gave her a cruel smile.

"I am no longer a devil, Shruikan?"

_You are what you are, _he said. _A devil, a snake, a dove._

It sounded like something Matrix would say.

Shruikan sniffed deeply. _I smell my brethren on you,_ he said. _Where go Saphira and the new one?_

"Slate. His name is Slate. And they wait outside."

Ieran had his hood up to ward his face, but he knew he was caught when Shruikan's eyes flicked to him. _A bit awkward, _the dragon laughed, _for a Shade to travel with a Shadeslayer._

Ieran said nothing, but Eragon reached for his blade.

_Be still, little Rider, _Shruikan bid. His eyes traveled to Shay and Vanir. _All the way from Ellesméra, a little elf of fay blood and his mortal sweetheart,_ he chuckled. _Noble, for sure._

Súndavar bristled.

_And you? Another Rider, perhaps. _Recognition flared, and Shruikan let out a laugh. _The Shadow-boy? Súndavar. Súndavar Eddyrheart. I doubted I would ever see you again._

The dragon turned back to Rune. _A motley crew,_ he said with a smile. _But, for your sake, a strong one, I hope. Be true to yourself, and my king will have no hold over you._

With that, he retreated to the corner.

It was no moments after that Galbatorix strode from the darkness.

His was regal attire, for sure – a cape trimmed in ermine, a tunic with gold laced throughout. His eyes were bright and narrow, his hair a tone of the darkest auburn with gray so prominent he would have looked old if he had not held himself so straight.

Rune felt a sweat form on her brow, but she bowed to him. "Your Highness."

He nodded to her. It was all very formal, but they all could sense hostility flying between the two kin.

"You have forgotten your manners," Galbatorix said lightly. "Women curtsy."

"Women in tunics bow," she said. "As do lady knights, warriors, and captains." She smiled slightly. "I include myself in the second group."

Galbatorix shrugged. "Tell me about your friends," he bid, as if he was any father, asking lightly about a man his daughter had brought home.

Rune held out her arm, and Tawnyclaw flew to it. The hawk bowed, wings held high, before the king.

"This is Tawnyclaw," she said. She gestured to the others, introducing each. Galbatorix was silent.

When she had finished, he smiled. "And which is your lover?" he asked.

Rune frowned. "None," she said, clasping Súndavar's hand.

Galbatorix laughed. "Then how does it come to be you are carrying a child?"

Rune's eyes widened in fear. "W-what?"

"It is all over you," he said. "In your veins. I can sense it. Which is the father?"'

Rune glanced at Eragon. The Rider stared solemnly back at her.

"Eragon is," she said softly, glancing down at her stomach. Súndavar squeezed her hand tighter.

Galbatorix laughed. "If only Morzan were here," he said with a grin. "To think we'd share a grandchild!"

Eragon stiffened at the mention of his late father, but kept his eyes on Rune. This was something he hadn't expected. It could throw everything so terribly off. His heart pounded.

A father.

Him.

Rune had brought a hand involuntarily to her belly. Súndavar's arm was around her shoulder. Eragon could sense she was close to tears.

Galbatorix's spiteful smile fell from his face. "Ah," he said. "But the two of you are no longer in love?"

Of all the things Eragon would have hated to discuss with Galbatorix, this was the most hated. He said nothing. The king looked at Súndavar. "So she is yours, now," the king concluded.

Súndavar removed his hands from Rune's shoulder. "No," he said. "We are but friends."

"I think not," the king chuckled. "Even a Shade's heart can love. And yours is full of love for her."

"It isn't."

Rune glanced at Súndavar, then down at herself again.

"Kiss her, then," Galbatorix bid.

"What?"

"Kiss her. I will know your feelings."

Súndavar brushed his hair out of his face. "I don't see why my feelings are any business of yours."

"She is my daughter, is she not?"

Rune touched Súndavar's shoulder. "It's okay," she whispered to him. "I don't mind."

He bit the inside of his cheek, before touching her face. He pressed his lips to hers.

A moment passed. Eragon expected them to part quickly. But they didn't. Súndavar's arms wrapped around her shoulders again, he deepened the kiss.

Rune felt afraid. This was not supposed to happen. She felt his tongue touch her lips. Unlike the time with Eragon, she opened them willingly, tilting her head. She breathed deeply, unsure but loving every moment of what was happening.

Then she tilted her head back, breaking off contact. She stepped away, and touched her stomach again.

Galbatorix simply laughed.

"Well," he said. "If that wasn't love, I don't know what such is."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune cried softly into her hands.

_With child,_ her heart sobbed.

So it had happened. Eragon and She…the glade…she was glad her memory failed her, but this was not supposed to have happened. She had just begun to feel confident in herself – she could do this. But now that confidence was replaced by despair.

Eragon's child. The Rider would be supportive, she knew, loving to the child and her alike, but it would not be the same. She loved Eragon dearly, but not in the way she should love the father of her child.

Uru'baen was laid out beneath her. The sunset was at her back – it hurt to look into it. The sunset meant Hope. Hope, to her, was dead.

_For what was there to hope for?_


	8. A Hostile Affair Indeed

**Author's Note: Caitlin, I hope you like your surprise!**

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Rune's eyes flew upward. Eragon stood over her, his face kind and gentle. He touched her shoulder hesitantly. He felt warm.

"What is there to talk about?" Rune asked. Her stomach felt sick, like it did when she ate too little. Like it was eating itself. Her head pounded with her heartbeat.

Eragon sat next to her. "I'm sorry, you know," he said. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him. He smelled different than Súndavar, more like a man than a boy. She pressed her nose into his shoulder and kept it there, refusing to speak.

"Are you angry at me?"

Rune said nothing, but she sent him sad shades of blue. He pulled her gently into his lap and rocked her like a big brother would. She fit nicely in his strong arms.

She traced a scar on his forearm with a single finger. "It's not your fault," she told him finally. "I don't blame you."

"That's a good thing."

She made no move to get off his lap. She tucked her nose against his jaw and closed her eyes. "Eragon?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to be a mommy."

Her voice was so sad, so full of despair, Eragon felt tears well in his eyes. "We'll make it through this," he comforted.

"But I'm a kid," she said. "We're all kids. We shouldn't be fighting for Alagäesia, or having babies, or learning magic. We should be in our houses, safe, learning times tables and reading books and playing games."

Eragon kissed her forehead. "But we're not," he said. "This is what's happening to us. So we'll have to make the best of it."

"I can't," Rune whimpered. "I just can't."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Galbatorix sipped his wine. With child. His daughter, Lycona's daughter, was with child.

A grandfather. It almost made Galbatorix want to laugh. He? He could not envision himself in such a role.

But then, he had never envisioned himself as a father either.

His eyes flew to the fairth of Lycona he kept on his desk. His brow furrowed. He would have to hide the fairth – what would Rune think? He wouldn't want any of them thinking he held a fondness for Rune's mother. Part of _being_ strong was appearing strong.

"I want them to join me for dinner," he told Shruikan. "Murtagh as well. I look forward to seeing him squirm at the news that his former love has gone to bed with his brother."

Shruikan hated being ordered around by the king. A single swipe of his claw, and he could end it. He could save them all. All it would take was an unexpected moment. But the dragon knew well he would never do such. He couldn't.

He flicked his tail and walked away to inform a slave to prepare Galbatorix's meal, leaving the king alone.

"Your Highness?"

The king's eyes flicked to the doorway. It was the shadow boy. What was his name? …Súndavar. Ieran's son. The shadow-boy. He had been born about the time of Rune's conception, Galbatorix remembered. Perhaps a little before. He remembered the way Ieran – a boy of fifteen, at the time – had pointedly ignored his baby. Shades made terrible fathers.

"Súndavar Eddyrheart," he answered. "Enter."

Súndavar crept into the room. "I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said. Galbatorix could sense the loathing in the boy – he hated this place, as he hated the King. "But where are our rooms?"

"Ask a slave."

"They scurry away at the sight of me," the boy said. "At the sight of any of us."

Galbatorix grunted noncommittally. "You and Eragon mat sleep in the Dragon Hold. There are several rooms you can choose from there."

"I want Rune near," Súndavar added.

Galbatorix waved him away. "I care not where you stay," he said. "I shall speak no more to you until dinner tonight." He took another sip of his wine and turned away, effectively ending the conversation.

Then he turned back. "Say," the evil lord said casually. "These eyes of yours, they pique my interest. You are not a Shade, yet you carry the eyes of one. How so?"

Súndavar scowled at him. "I don't know," he growled, before darting off.

Galbatorix smiled coldly and tapped his fingers against the desk.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

_A father?_

Saphira's eyes were round as marbles. Beside her, Matrix stopped licking blood from her claws to listen in interest.

_Eragon, you are in over your head._

Eragon sighed and touched Saphira's nose. _It isn't my fault,_ he insisted.

_I'm afraid I can't very well see how it isn't your fault if it was you who mated with her,_ Saphira snorted. _You realize this could very well cost us the war?_

_I know,_ Eragon nodded. _But there isn't much that can be done about it._

Saphira blew a lick of flame. The Dragon Keep at the top of the castle had proved a good rooming arrangement. It was private and secluded – the king, as of yet, knew nothing of Matrix – as well as spacious and well crafted.

_Eragon, _she said, _This child is your shame. Begotten out of wedlock, and to the daughter of the King, no less! You are supposed to set an example._

_If I could go back, I would._

_Nonsense. None of us can go return to the past._ She sighed. _As your dragon, I back you in all things,_ she said. _But pray to Hope that this war resolves quickly. Bringing another child into a kingdom so fraught with hatred and violence is a sin in itself._

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune sat very still in her green dress, trying not to let emotion show in her face. She remembered this dress – it had been her favorite, when she left. Now it was tight, she noticed, in her arms and chest, and – most disturbingly – her stomach. She shivered and touched herself again under the table.

Dinner was coming along uncomfortable at best. Murtagh hadn't spoken a word – although Rune had felt her heart beating faster when she saw him. His eyes still invoked the same timid, fluttering feeling in her chest as they had when she had lived here.

The young man seemed almost hostile. His fists had clenched around his napkin when he had heard of the child – whether he was angry at Eragon for touching her, she for touching Eragon, or both of them for putting Alagäesia in jeopardy, Rune couldn't tell.

Sundavar was just as silent, although he squeezed her hand under the table every so often, as if simply reminding both her and himself that he was there. Only Galbatorix talked.

It was a hostile affair indeed.

"Preparations will have to be made," Galbatorix was saying to Rune. "I'm afraid you never really had a nursery – Ieran or Durza watched you, more often than not – so we'll have to make allowances for one. Perhaps you yourself should consider seeking more suitable accommodations than the Dragon Hold."

Rune glanced at her father, then down at the untouched food on her plate. "I'm fine with the Riders, your Highness," she murmured. "We all stay in the Hold. So will the – " she choked on the word, and ducked her head lower.

Shay watched her curiously. She was surprised, actually. Rune hadn't talked of anything happening between she and Eragon. Oh, she had mentioned it, once, when she was screaming about not having her bleeding, but Shay hadn't put much stock in it. She should have. Rune, next to Vanir, was her best friend.

Vanir glanced at her. He reached out to her with his mind, and she let him in.

_Did you know? _She asked instantly.

_Know?_

_About Rune. You must have known. You talked to her._

Vanir took a small bite of his bread, which had been lavishly buttered by one of Galbatorix's fleeting slaves. He made a face – if Galbatorix meant to show wealth by proving he could afford to over-butter his guests' bread, he was succeeding. _I knew she and Eragon had engaged in conduct unbefitting of a princess and a Rider,_ he said.

_But not about the—_

_I assumed she had been wearing my ring. If she had, this wouldn't have happened._

Shay turned pink, her hand slipping into her pocket. Her fingers tightened around Rune's ring.

_Vanir, she gave me the ring. She thought I had more use for it..._

Vanir snorted, and the other guests looked at him. Galbatorix looked distinctly amused, and Shay realized he had heard every word of what they had said. She pulled away from Vanir, feeling disgusted and violated by the king.

Rune glanced upward, as if sensing something wrong. Then her eyes flew downward again. "When the...the...it. When it comes, we'll be far away. You'll be dead," she told her father without conviction. "You'll be dead. Matrix will—"

"Matrix?" Galbatorix smiled. "Now that's a name I haven't heard. Not much of a human name, is it?"

Rune turned pale and started shaking, as if she hadn't eaten in a long time.

Behind Galbatorix, Shruikan had turned to stone. The dragon didn't move a muscle.

_Did you say Matrix?_

Rune glanced at him, then at Eragon and the others. The look on her face confirmed Shruikan's question.

The dragon stood up and left the room with haste, not offering an explanation. Rune stared after him, then glanced at Murtagh and away.

For the first time that night, someone other than Rune or Galbatorix spoke.

"Your castle seems older since I've last entered it," Ieran said. "Deader."

Galbatorix blinked his eyes slowly. "Is that so, Shade?"

"It's fallen into disrepair, a bit," Ieran went on. "Perhaps you simply found no will to order things tidied up?"

"Or perhaps I saw tidying pointless, with no one here but myself."

His words seemed to startle both himself and Rune. Eragon wasn't sure what they meant, until Rune spoke.

"Things were always clean, when I was here," she said, and for the first time since the news her eyes got a spark of life in them. "Did you really miss me that much?"

Galbatorix's face flushed, then paled. He stood up from the table. "Dinner is over," he said. "You are free to roam about the castle as you wish – the forbidden rooms are locked and only my true name opens them. Lessons for Eragon and the Shadow-boy start tomorrow, so be there. Rune, you will be attending as well."

"My name is Sundavar," the boy growled bravely. "And Rune shouldn't have to be witness to you stuffing our minds with lies. We've enough to worry about, shielding ourselves from you. We need not to have to protect her too."

"I'll call you what I wish, and Rune will attend," Galbatorix dismissed. With that, he strode purposely away.

_He loved me,_ Rune was thinking to herself. _He loved me after all._

oooooooooooooooooooo

Caitlin watched the guests quietly from around the corner, one finger twirling around her long, wavy brown hair. She still held the butter knife in her other hand. Her eyes were locked on the girl in the green dress. The king's daughter?

She glanced at David. "Is that the Princess?" she whispered softly.

David looked at her, then nodded sharply, once. "Rune," he said. His voice was deep – it had recently changed – and with the single word, Caitlin could tell he didn't think highly of the Princess.

"You don't seem to like her."

"I never met her," he said. Caitlin wanted to ask for more information, but the look on David's face kept her from doing so. He looked distant, a bit upset.

"Who's the boy, sitting next to her?" Cailtin asked.

"Sundavar."

David didn't sound any happier about Sundavar than he did about Rune.

Caitlin surveyed Sundavar quietly. He was handsome, with his chiseled features, pale skin, and black hair, but she found his eyes distinctly unsettling. Something about him seemed...off. Not normal. Still, she couldn't help but admit to herself she found him extremely attractive.

David ran his fingers through his sandy hair. His brown eyes were narrow. He turned and strode away. Caitlin scampered to catch up. "What's wrong?"

David didn't answer, but his hands were clenched into fists. Caitlin got the idea that there was bad blood between him and the boy called Shadow.


	9. Dragon Love and Revelations

**Author's Note: Heya! Just a notice – there's a picture of Matrix posted in my deviantART account. There's a link in my profile. :D Hearts, Kittie**

Matrix stared at Shruikan. Her glowing ember-eyes were wide, and glittered dangerously in the dark hold. She sniffed him experimentally.

_You smell like Glaedr, _she told him.

Shruikan inclined his head regally. His scales shimmered. _Do I look like him as well?_

The dragoness circled the younger dragon thoughtfully. _Your spines are shaped like his,_ she said. _But your scales align differently. You are quite handsome._ She sniffed him again. _You do not have his eyes, nor his fangs. But you are strong, as he is. Can you hold a flame?_

Shruikan nodded to her. _For nearly dusk until dawn._ The dragon, old as he was, treated Matrix with respect, almost reverence. She was countless years older, and they both knew as much. Yet, both had an aura of confidence.

_Then you have been practicing._

_I have,_ Shruikan affirmed. _For a hundred years._

Matrix sat down, and curled herself like a cat – tail over her front paws. She cocked her head, continuing to watch him. _You hatched close to the time of the Fall, then._

_Aye._

Matrix laid her head down. _Well met, son._

_And to you, mother._

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"Murtagh."

The young Rider turned around hesitantly at the sound of Rune's voice. His eyes flew down her body, resting on her stomach for a moment, before returning to her face.

"Rune."

He made no move to come closer, but nor did he walk away.

"I've missed you," Rune said softly. Her voice shook.

"I'm sure Eragon kept you better company than I could have," Murtagh told her. His voice was hard, ungiving. Rune suddenly wished she hadn't approached him after all.

"Are you mad at me?"

Murtagh frowned. "Not at all," he said. From his tone, Rune could tell the opposite was true.

She stepped forward, then back again. "I'm sorry," she said simply.

Murtagh nodded, then turned to leave. "I should think so."

He strode off down the hallway, leaving Rune alone. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

Murtagh turned around. His eyes gazed into hers. Rune could sense the rage in him softening.

"I'm sorry," Rune said again, softer this time.

Murtagh walked towards her. At first, Rune thought he might strike her. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her pale shoulders and tightened. Rune's heart beat faster, this time against his.

She could barely remember when their lips met. He tasted sweet, like he used to. They seemed to lock one another in an embrace for longer than was possible, hours, days, infinity. Rune didn't want the feeling of him against her to end.

_Súndavar._

She pulled away when she felt the tip of his tongue press against her lips. Her eyes were wide.

"I'm sorry," she said again, before turning and taking flight.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Slate sniffed deeply, taking in the sweet scent of Saphira's scales. _You shine,_ he told her gently. Saphira glanced from him to Matrix. The older dragon seemed to be sleeping, but Saphira could tell she was not.

_Let us go to the courtyards,_ she bid him, tail whipping. The open top to the Hold was made to let fresh air in and dragons out, but the weather had turned foul, a brisk wind picking up, wind laced with ice. Nonetheless, the two dragons lifted into the air.

Slate's eyes didn't leave Saphira as they flew. Slaves who trimmed the hedges below scurried away at the sight of the dragons. Slate caught sight of a boy, who seemed somewhat familiar, but he couldn't tell if the memories were his own or from someone else. He ignored it – Saphira was all that mattered to him at the moment.

They lit down in the middle of a garden, surrounded by lemon trees and the sweet smell of roses. Saphira laid down and stretched out.

_Something troubles you,_ she said.

Slate shook his head. _Ney, I am troubled by naught,_ he dismissed, laying down next to her. _I just don't like this place._

_Nor do I,_ Saphira affirmed. She sniffed a lemon, then snapped it off the tree with her fangs. She licked her lips. _Curious taste. Like rabbit's blood and sour milk. Yet…pleasant._

Slate sampled a lemon, then sneezed smoke in Saphira's face. _It's bitter!_

Saphira laughed. _You really **are** a dracling, aren't you?_

Slate raised his back end in the air, as if about to pounce on her. He wiggled like a cat and grinned. _Who's calling who a dracling?_

Saphira batted him playfully with one paw, claws sheathed. _Dracling, Dracling,_ she taunted. Her voice was full of both laughter and love.

Slate darted close to her, licked her nose, and darted away. Saphira snorted flame at him. It passed over his scales harmlessly. In retribution, he pounced on her. They were both about the same size now, and went rolling through a patch of roses, tail over wing.

They landed with Saphira on top. She licked Slate's nose as payback, then jumped into the air. Slate followed her, laughing all the way.

From the Hold, Matrix was watching with a knowing eye. Her scales seemed to hold a new luster, as she watched the two young dragons doing acrobatics in the sky with one another. She recognized every motion, every movement of every scale. She herself had done so once. Long, long ago, with a dragon whose name was lauded by every elf.

_Sweet Glaedr,_ she thought. _How long since I've tasted your scales._

She grinned as she watched them. Saphira spiraled over Slate, her wings moving brilliantly. Slate flared his own to catch the wind. Matrix laughed, remembering the way her love had done so to her. How broad his wings had been. How easily she had been seduced by them. By him, in all his wonder.

How silly it felt now. He was not a true dragon. He never would be. Still, Matrix couldn't help but long for him, just a fleeting bit in the corner of her heart, as she looked upon the draclings in the sky, long for the passion they had shared, the secret acts of love they had graced one another with.

And now he was gone. Not dead, but unreachable and distant as the stars in the very sky. Yet, the age old dragoness didn't allow her heart to dwell on thoughts of him.

_Love, draclings,_ she laughed. Her eyes danced with passion long gone past. _Be dragons true._

oooooooooooooooooooo

Night seemed to fall quickly. Shay had found Lily, and the two had disappeared – much to the dismay of Vanir, who had been looking forward to making full use of the luscious bedroom he and his mate had chosen for themselves. Slate and Saphira, too, had left, and when either of their Riders reached out to the dragons, they were ignored.

Both Súndavar and Eragon had a clear idea of what was occurring, and they both felt a bit uncomfortable about it.

"So, uhm," Súndavar murmured, taking out his dagger and beginning to sharpen it. He and Eragon had sat down on bales of hay that were in the Hold – although for what purpose neither could guess.

Eragon glanced at the other Rider, then away. "Where do you suppose Rune's gotten off to?" he asked. The questions seemed to be a grasping for straws. Neither would look at one another for two long, for risk being reminded of their dragons.

"Somewhere, I suppose. Probably the armory, or the dungeons, or—"

Eragon forced a laugh. "Súndavar, those are places you would go. She wouldn't."

"She would have, before you went and got her preg—" his voice caught on the word, as if it hurt him to say it.

"Pregnant," Eragon finished. Then he sighed. "I suppose she would have." He glanced Súndavar's way, before sighing again. "I am sorry, you know. I don't know how many times I'll have to say it."

"No amount will give her back her maidenship," Súndavar snorted. "Or change the fact that she's with child."

"The only reason Rune's maidenship means anything to you is that you'd wanted to be the one to take it," Eragon snorted.

Súndavar shrugged. "Well, I wasn't. So looks like we'd better get used to it."

Eragon nodded slowly. "It's kind of humourous, when I think about it," he said absently. "In eight or so months, I'll be a…a _father._ With a baby. Maybe it'll have my eyes, or my nose, or maybe it will like growing things, just like me, or—"

"Of maybe it'll take after Rune," Súndavar added pointedly.

Eragon rested his chin on his hands. "Probably. But…I just can't believe things could go so terribly cursed _wrong, _because of one cursed night in one cursed glade when we let our cursed bodies take over and time sort of faded and—"

"Don't get descriptive," Súndavar snapped irritably. "I'd just as much like not to hear about you tumbling Rune. In fact, I'd rather hear about _Ieran_ tumbling _Freya_."

"That's your mom?"

"I guess. So he said."

Eragon nodded and shrugged. This was probably the first time he and Súndavar had said so much to one another. The hostility they had once held had faded over time, but Eragon had never considered the other Rider a friend. Not by a far throw. Rune was their only real connection, that and the fate of Alagäesia resting on their shoulders and all.

"What's funny," Eragon said, "Is that the child _will_ be Rune's. It doesn't matter if it looks exactly like me, I doubt I'll be much of a father to it."

"How so? You'd better not be thinking about abandoning Rune, because if you are then Hope help me—"

"No!" Eragon cried. "I love Rune. Just…she's going to have a child, and it's going to be mine. But it should be yours."

"You're bloody right," Súndavar snorted under his breath.

"I love her," Eragon repeated. "But it's not romantic love. I would die if anything happened to her, but for all that we've shared, I think the only thing we gained was the knowledge we're better off apart – in that sense."

"That and the knowledge that _you_ were in _her_ and it resulted in—"

"Yes, that too. But it _shouldn't_ have. It shouldn't have gone so _wrong._"

"We had the _talk_ with Oromis. You knew what could happen," Súndavar said with a grin. He was rather enjoying seeing Eragon squirm.

"Yes, but we didn't have a _talk_ about what could happen **_after_** the _talk,_" Eragon protested. "He didn't give us _father lessons,_ did he? How am I supposed to take care of Rune, and the child? Are we supposed to get married? Do Riders even _get_ married? Or do they have mates, like the elves? When it comes, am I supposed to be there, for delivery? What about her cravings? She'll probably want sweets and salty things – is that healthy? Can she sleep on her side? She always sleeps on her stomach! You can't—"

"Calm down," Súndavar urged. "You're flying off the handle."

But Eragon wasn't finished. "What about feeding? I doubt Rune will want to breast feed. Even if she does, what if something happens? What if something happens to her? How am I supposed to feed it? I can't! What about discipline? Will I be able to be there for it? And Saphira – won't a dragon scare a baby? But she'll want to be part of it's life. And what happens when it's begging for a pony, or a puppy, or something, and it's looking up at me with big, wide eyes and saying '_daddy'_ and I can't say no and Rune will be _cooking_ next thing we know, and being all housewify and—"

"You've thought a lot about this," Súndavar commented.

"I only found out at noontide!" Eragon cried. "It's barely sunk in yet!"

"I'd hate to see what happens when it _does,_" Súndavar snorted.

Eragon glanced at him. "If you found out a girl you had made love to without knowing it was pregnant with a child that should rightfully be someone else's because they love her more like parents _should_ love each other, you'd be a bit snappy too.

"You're right, I probably would," said Súndavar with mock pleasantness. "Suppose Saphira and Slate will be back soon?"

"Don't start me up on them."

From across the Hold, Matrix cracked open an eye. _They'll be a while yet,_ she said. _Do not newly wedded ones take a moon of sweetness?_

"I think it's called a Honeymoon," Eragon said. "Hope! If we get married, we'll need—"

"Don't start again, I'm getting a headache," Súndavar grunted. He glanced at Matrix, then at the rooms where the Riders would have slept. He and Eragon had chosen rooms among them, as had Rune. Hers – no surprise – was in between theirs. Súndavar had felt a twinge of affection for her then – even though she carried Eragon's baby, she pointedly refused to show favoritism by rooming with either Rider.

"Where is Rune-la, anyways?"

"Interesting nickname."

"It just came out," Súndavar protested.

Eragon shrugged. "Dunno where she is."

"She should be here by now. It's after dark."

"She's probably in the library, reading up on baby stuff. I heard reading to babies makes them…smarter, I think."

"Then your mother must have not read to you," Súndavar said with a teasing grin. Eragon cuffed the younger boy cleanly on the head, but not hard. It was a blow Roran had struck him often with, in their younger days – and even some of their older ones.

The two young men laid back in the pile of straw.

"I used to live here," Súndavar said. "Before I was sold, and all."

Eragon glanced at him. "You've never spoken of your life, before you found Rune."

"She found me."

"Right. What happened – before?"

Súndavar moved his shoulders in a weak shrug. "I guess I stuck around here, till I was thirteen or so."

"That old? Wow. This place must bring back some memories, then."

"Not really," Súndavar denied. But his flame-eyes were full of sadness, and maybe even a few tears.

"I guess I would not like to talk about such things either."

"It wasn't too bad. I had to keep away from Rune – I didn't know she existed, till we met in the slave market. But I guess I heard some of he slave women muttering things about 'The Princess'. I just never thought about what they meant."

"That would be weird, meeting someone you already sorta knew about."

"Not too weird. She figured it out first, I guess, when I…I…I hit her. That was when I was cutting."

"You were…cutting?"

"I guess." Súndavar showed Eragon his wrist, where the scars ran like deadly lace.

Eragon felt his heart pull. "That must have been murder, for Slate."

"Probably. We both agreed I wouldn't do it again. So I guess I'm okay now. But sometimes Rune calls me _cutter_, just because. I think she finds it cute."

"Do you?"

"When she says it, in her soft voice and—"

"I'll take that as a yes."

There was silence for a moment, as the two Riders contemplated what was happening between them. Neither had ever felt a connection to the other, except for now.

"Rune told me you met, when you were little."

Súndavar nodded. "Yeah, _really _little. Like five, or something. Galbatorix hit her, and I started crying. He had a slave take me and lock me in a closet until I calmed down."

Eragon laughed, although he knew there was more to the story. Ieran had been stabbed that day. In front of Súndavar.

"What about you? I mean, you gotta have some childhood memories, and stuff. Probably a lot better than mine."

"I guess—"

"You don't have to tell me. I'd probably find them sappy anyways."

Eragon smiled. "Probably," he said.

"Hey Eragon?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you keep secrets?"

Eragon frowned. "Yes."

Súndavar sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling you this – maybe we're friends now, I don't know – but I sort of need to tell someone. Rune would either think I was insane or be mad at me, and Slate shrugged me off."

"This isn't about loving Rune, is it?"

"No! I mean, yes. Sort of." Súndavar paused nervously. "I _do_ love Rune. Really. But I think I might…kind…love someone…you know…else."

Eragon's eyes widened slightly. That was like hearing Súndavar admit that all along, the sky had really been pink, and Eragon had just _thought_ it was blue. Or that grass really grew on heads, and hair in dirt. "It's not Shay, is it? Because if it's Shay, Vanir will honest to goodness murder you in your—"

"Finding out you're a father's got your nerves hopelessly fried," Súndavar snorted. "It's not Shay. It's this other girl. Her name's…er, Lexi. Alexia."

Eragon blinked. "The Varden girl."

"Yeah."

"The dead one."

"Er…kinda."

"Either it's her or it's not, Súndavar."

Súndavar glanced at his hands. "I…I've been kinda, you know, _dreaming_. About her. But she's so…_real._ It's like…My mind says she's not there, but my heart says she is."

"When did your dreams start?"

"I'm not sure. She says Slate let her out of the Vault of Souls. I'm not sure what it is. It's probably not real."

But Eragon had gone entirely rigid. "Súndavar? They aren't just dreams."

"What do you mean?"

"Solembum. The werecat? He told me, about the Vault. It's real."


	10. A Lesson of Force

**Author's Note: Hey all:D Remember those character contests I had a while back? Where I got Shay and Taten and Lenori? Well, I'm having another contest. Except this one isn't about a new OC (Any more and I may begin losing track of Rune and Súndavar, much less my lesser OCs) it's about a scene. I'm challenging you guys to write me a scene for my story. Why? I have no idea. Mostly because I want to get more input from all you lovely people. And perhaps I'm having a case of writer's block. :D So, you have options:**

**A romance scene between Rune and your ship (This has to be pg-13 or below. :D)**

**A Súndavar/Lexi dream**

**What you think a training session would be like with Galbatorix, Eragon, and Súndavar. Rune would be there too, but she doesn't participate.**

**A fight scene between either a couple (Shay/Vanir, Sun/Rune, Era/Rune…and the list goes on….) or a relationship (Ieran/Sun, Rune/Galbatorix and such) By fight I mean screaming, not swords. :D**

**A swordfight between two people.**

**You can do as many as you want, or mix them, or come up with your own category and check it with me in a review. Other than keeping it PG-13, there is only one rock solid rule:**

**YOU MUST NOT SUBMIT IT IN A REVIEW**

**Let me tell you, I love reviews, but reading seven page reviews is a bit tiring. --' You can either PM it to me, or I'll give you my email address.**

**Prizes:**

**Grand Prize: Seeing your chapter in my story, credited to you, and an art request of your choice. Your chapter will not be edited for length or content, but I will check for grammar errors.**

**1st Prizes for each category: Inclusion of chapter in story. May be edited for length or content. Will be credited to you.**

**2nd Prizes for each category: Inclusion of idea in story. I'll take the parts of your chapter I like, combine them, and rewrite it. The ideas will be credited to you.**

**Entries can be as long or short as you want. However, I will NOT be judging on length – longer isn't necessarily better. I'll be judging on style, content, and if you keep my characters close to their natural…characterness. :D Until next time—**

**Hearts, Kittie**

**PS) Side contest – Baby names. This is for everyone who's not a writer, or doesn't have time to write something…or those of you who just want to. Give me your favorite baby names – girl or boy. I haven't decided which it will be yet…:D You can enter both, if you want.**

Rune slid into bed next to Eragon. For a moment their legs mingled under the sheets, and they both shivered.

"Did Súndavar mind that you were sleeping with me tonight?" Eragon asked softly.

Rune shook her head. "I told him we needed to talk. He was very understanding." She touched Eragon's bare chest with gentle fingers. "I promised tomorrow I'd sleep in his room."

"Just be safe," Eragon told her. His hands found her stomach and stayed there. "How long will it be, before you begin to.._show_?"

"I'm not sure," Rune shook her head and placed her hand over his. "We're parents."

Eragon smiled at her. "_Will_ be parents."

"Are. I think it has a heartbeat already."

"How can you tell?"

Rune shrugged. "I can't. I just think it does."

They settled into silence. Both were thinking of the tiny being that was cradled inside Rune, pressed against Eragon. They were so close together, their body warmth mingling, that Rune could feel Eragon's heart beating against hers. For a split second – and it may have been her imagination – she thought she felt a third heartbeat.

_A family_, she thought to the little being inside her. _We're a family. You, me, and your daddy. I'll take care of you._

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Vanir glanced back at the empty bed and sighed. _Where was Shay?_ His mind was spinning with fear that something had happened to her. They'd been separated once – he wasn't about to let it happen again.

The elf then snorted, disgusted with himself. Before he and Shay had become mates, he hadn't been so hopelessly devoted, worrying about her at all hours, thinking about her when he wasn't worrying. He was a young, self respectable elf, who didn't need a pathetic human to assure him of his own worth.

Then he pictured her dead, somewhere in the castle, and all of his self respectability and thoughts of disgust evaporated.

He put his head in his hands, leaning on the desk. _Where **was** she?_

It didn't help that he had been _planning_ on tonight. He touched his pocket, feeling the little box inside. He pictured the ring. It had a blue stone, like the color of her eyes, and a silver band. He had crafted it solely from magic, and it was his finest work ever.

Vanir took it out and gazed at it sadly.

He knew Shay loved him. He knew that. But humans…humans weren't used to having mates. They wanted commitment. Weddings, and things of that sort. He wanted Shay to be comfortable – even if it meant giving up his freedom.

If only he knew more about marriage…as an elf, the subject didn't come up often. Occaisonally children would use it as an insult – "If you love it so much, why don't you marry it?" – because the mere _thought_ of a human custom being applied to elves was slightly repulsive.

But he could handle that. He knew Shay would be happier if they were married – happier if she was Shay Everwood of House Haldthin than just Shay Everwood, the elf's lover.

He wasn't sure how he knew this – she'd never asked about marriage. He didn't think they'd even mentioned it casually to one another. She seemed content being mates, for all her could tell. And yet…

He had sensed the shock in Eragon when he had found out about Rune's child. Loving-making out of wedlock, to humans, was shameful. A child resulting was worse. Vanir didn't want Shay to feel any shame for their love.

But she had to _be here_ if he was going to ask! It didn't help at all that the only thing he could think of to say wasn't in the least romantic.

_Uhm…will you, uh…engage in the human practice of…er…_

No. He would have to talk to someone about it – he couldn't very well ask that way. Shay would probably laugh her head off.

He'd ask Rune. Rune would know – she was a girl, after all, and a Princess at that. She'd _have_ to know. Plus she had _three_ sweethearts.

Vanir put the ring away and crawled into bed. He'd ask Rune in the morning. For now, he waited in silence for Shay to return.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"_You made it!" Lexi's white eyes were bright as her thin arms wrapped around his shoulders. "You made it!"_

_Súndavar hugged her back. The last words Eragon had spoken to him were fresh in his mind. He kissed Lexi's lips, a quick, chaste kiss that was more for joy than love, and swung her around. She was laughing._

"_So you know about Rune."_

_Súndavar nodded. His smile dampered, but only a bit. "Yes, I know. How did you?"_

_Lexi chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I'm not…I'm not sure. I suppose you probably **subconsciously** knew, because I'm a figment of your imagination. I don't exist, so I can't know anything you don't."_

_Súndavar laughed and hugged her again. "Oh? Is that right?" He laughed happily. "Do you remember when you told me about the Vault?"_

"_Yes. But the Vault is probably something you made up to convince yourself I was alive. It's not real any more than I am."_

"_Lexi," Súndavar was laughing, and happy tears were in his eyes. "Lex, Eragon and I talked today. I told him about you."_

_Lexi frowned. "Why does is this humorous?" she asked. "Sun, you're crying."_

"_Eragon knows about the Vault, Lexi. It was part of a prophesy that was revealed to him by a werecat. It's real."_

_Lexi's white eyes widened. A grin spread across her face. "You mean – I'm…"_

"_You exist!" Súndavar cried. Lexi almost knocked him over, she dove into his arms so fast. He hugged her thin form tightly, rocking her. She rocked back, sending them off balance. They collapsed to the floor, laughing._

_Lexi has straddled Súndavar's chest. She was grinning. Súndavar laughed and pushed her off. "Hey!"_

_She was about to tackle him again – both were beyond sense in their joy and were acting like puppies – when a shadow sprang from the ground in front of her. Black mist enveloped her._

_Súndavar dove at her, knocking her away from the mist. They cowered against a corner._

"_It feels **evil**," Lexi whispered. "What do you see?"_

_Súndavar sent her an image – her beautiful sanctuary, befouled by a twisting black column of sickly smoke. Bits and pieces would float towards them, and Súndavar hid Lexi behind himself._

"_I can't see anything!" she cried in anger. For the first time, she expressed annoyance at being blind. Her hands were clenched into fists._

_Súndavar stroked her hair softly, staring at the pillar of smoke with growing fear. He hugged Lexi tightly, pressing his nose into her hair._

"_Make it go away," Lexi whimpered. She was shaking._

_Súndavar glanced at the smoke. It was taking a new shape – a man. A man made out of shadows, with a ragged, twisting cloak and heavy armor. His eyes glittered red._

_He smiled._

_Then he was gone._

"_What's happening?" Lexi whispered. She made a motion as if looking around, but Súndavar knew she was trying to hear what was going on._

"_He's gone," he hissed back. But the words were barely out of his mouth before Lexi's room lurched. They went flying against a wall. Lexi collapsed, head lolling, and laid there, like a broken doll._

"_Lexi!"_

_The floor gave way beneath his feet, and Súndavar jumped. He clung to a windowsill, then slid to the floor next to Lexi. "Lex! Alexia! Wake up!" He shook her nervously, then frantically. "Open your eyes!"_

_Lexi's eyes did open, fluttering like butterflies. "Whaa—" before she could say any more, the floor beneath her collapsed. She fell through._

"_Súndavar!"_

"_Lexi!"_

_He reached out to grasp her hand, but she had already plummeted too far._

"_Rïsa!" he cried._

_The magic poured strength into his veins. He had never used magic in a dream before – the effect was blinding. With a flash, Lexi was at his side again. She looked a bit dazed, but her face brightened up again._

_Súndavar suddenly felt the urge to throw up. His head spun. With a final exhalation, he let the darkness fade in and unconsciousness take control._

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Galbatorix studied his students with minimal curiousity. He raised a single eyebrow. "Who trained you?" he asked Eragon.

"Brom," Eragon answered without hesitation. Súndavar glanced at him, then at the floor.

"And you?"

Súndavar had the distinct idea he wasn't supposed to tell about Oromis. "Vanir taught me more magic," he said. "And Shay worked on swordplay."

Galbatorix laughed. "A beginner elf and a teenage girl. Quite the teachers."

"Shay is twenty," Rune said softly from her seat, not glancing up. She was sitting against the wall in the round room they would be using for training. Slaves had brought a rather large chair in for her – so large it could fit she, Eragon, _and_ Súndavar. They had tried it out, before Galbatorix had entered to begin their lesson.

Now she was curled up on it, a book in her lap. It was entitled _The Song of Freedom._ Eragon had found it horribly boring, but Rune said it offered a unique viewpoint on the lives of the lesser slave class, as it was written by a man who had once been such himself. Súndavar said it needed pictures.

Galbatorix ignored Rune's remark on Shay's age and began to pace. His boots made slapping sounds on the stone floor. Rune glanced irritably up from her book, then back down at it.

"Today I will train you to guard your minds," Galbatorix said, not looking at his pupils.

"I already know how to do that!" Eragon protested.

_Do you?_

Eragon barked in surprise. He hadn't even been able to put up a guard, Galbatorix was already there. "Get out!" he cried.

Galbatorix laughed. "But I already am."

Eragon searched his mind quickly. The King was telling the truth. He shivered at the thought that this evil man could gain access to him so easily. "If you can do that, why don't you make us swear to you?" he demanded.

The King glanced at his daughter. "Because of her," he said.

Súndavar snorted. "Decided you love your daughter after all?"

Galbatorix's lips pressed into a tight little line. Then he smiled. "Contrary," he said. "Because I do not know her true name. Only Lycona did. As I cannot make _her_ swear to me, I cannot, in my best interest, make you do the same."

"How so?"

"Because she would rather see you dead than bound to me," Galbatorix said, as if it were obvious. "I cannot force you into any _agreement_ without a promise from her that she won't harm you if I do."

Súndavar doubted Rune would hurt them, even if they _were_ bound to Galbatorix. She was too _good_. But…he shivered. He might beg her to. If he was bound to her father, he would _beg_ her to end it. And he knew she would. She would kiss him softly, and tell him she loved him, and gently, oh-so-gently, slip her snake and dove engraved dagger between his ribs. It wouldn't even hurt, because she would take the pain. That was how Rune was.

He glanced back at her and shivered. She nodded softly to him, as if she had sensed his thoughts. She pressed two fingers to her lips, then flipped them around, as if blowing a tiny kiss.

Súndavar felt slightly better.

"Now. Let's not waste any more time," Galbatorix said. "Rune, close your book and come here."

Rune made an annoyed face, but obeyed.

"Eragon, you'll go first," Galbatorix instructed. "Guard your mind."

"What?"

Galbatorix clicked his tongue impatiently. "Against Rune," he said. "Keep her out of your mind."

Eragon's eyes widened slightly. "That's impossible," he protested. "I can't—"

"Eragon," Rune said softly. "It's okay." She touched his hand, then her stomach, before tucking a strand of hair away from her face. She closed her eyes and reached out to him. He set up a weak wall against her, but she went in through a side way, sneaking through the cracks.

_Try harder,_ she whispered, before pulling out again.

"I can't do it," Eragon said. He shook his head. "Rune and I are too close – part of her is part of me. I can't lock her out."

Galbatorix rolled his eyes and muttered a few words under his breath. Eragon found himself locked in place, unable to move anything but his head. "You'll not move until you lock her from your mind," he said.

Eragon tried again. The wall was just as weak as before. This time Rune didn't enter.

Galbatorix shook his head. "Try a bit harder, dearheart," he snapped at Rune. The affectionate title sounded hateful, coming from him.

Rune pushed a tiny bit, but not enough to break Eragon's wall.

"I want a _battle_!" Galbatorix roared. "A fight! Eragon, strengthen your wall! Envision something stronger – something that even Rune can't get past. Rune, _force_. Force yourself into his mind as he forced his own into your body!"

Rune whirled on her father. "Take that back."

Galbatorix grinned, sensing he had hit a nerve. "Ah…so—"

"Take it back!" Rune screamed. "He didn't! He didn't make me! It was my idea! _He didn't_!"

She looked so upset Galbatorix half expected her to try to hit him.

She did try, and Súndavar jumped at her before she made contact with the king. "No!" he barked. He twisted her arms behind her and held them there. "Think of the baby," he whispered in her ear. "Don't let him get to you."

But Rune was crying now, angry tears streaming down her cheeks. She fought against Súndavar for a moment, before resorting to screaming again. "He _didn't_!" she shrieked like a banshee. "Eragon didn't force me! Tell him you didn't, Eragon! Tell him it was my idea! Tell him!"

Eragon stood helplessly. "It was no one's idea," he said truthfully. "But I didn't force you."

Rune gave in against Súndavar and sobbed into his chest. The Shade-boy looked a bit confused, but patted her back consolingly.

"Enough female over-emotionalism," Galbatorix snorted. "Eragon, you can duel against Súndavar. Rune, go sit down. You're obviously too unstable to be of any use."

Rune's hands clenched into fists. "No, I will _not_ sit down," she said. "Eragon, I'm going to force this time. Be ready."

Eragon pursed his lip, before nodding. "I love you," he said, unsure why. Perhaps it felt wrong, blocking her out, even if it was for training. Like he didn't care for her.

He was surprised at the ferocity of her mental attack. His wall began to crack almost instantly. She seemed to be everywhere at once – attacking his memories, then flooding him with red colors, then seeping through the cracks she herself had made. Eragon couldn't keep up. His wall shattered, and she flooding into his mind.

_I love you too._

He smiled. But Galbatorix wasn't.

"A pregnant girl and your own child!" he barked. "Pathetic. Try again, Eragon."

Again, Rune broke through Eragon's barrier.

Both were panting with exertion when they came out. Galbatorix was rubbing his temples irritably. "It would seem you've inherited my talent for breaching defenses," he told Rune. "Eragon, spar against Súndavar. Rune, I no longer need your services. You're free for the rest of the day. Dinner will be brought to you in the Hold."

For a moment, the King looked more like a tired, weary man counseling a youth who didn't seem to get the point than a terrifying and powerful monarch who had killed thousands. Rune nodded, and left the room.

She closed the door behind her, and leaned against it. She was shaking. She shouldn't have attacked Eragon's defenses like that, she knew. But she was so _angry._ Perhaps guarding their feelings from manipulation by Galbatorix was going to be harder than she had thought.

She cursed, realizing she had left her book in the room. She didn't dare turn back to get it – at the moment, her father was the last person she wanted to see. Instead, she headed towards the library. There was sure to be something to hold her interest there. Perhaps something on dragon eggs – she knew as well as the Riders did why Slate and Saphira had disappeared.

The pregnant girl walked down the hall purposefully. Her bare feet made no sound on the stone. When she reached the castle's library, she walked in without knocking.

A girl jumped up from a table, eyes wide. A book was open in front of the place she was sitting. "I'm sorry—" she stammered. "I was just – I was –"

Rune smiled at her. "Hello. I'm Rune. Who are you?"

"Caitlin, your Highness. I haven't a surname. Please don't tell Galbatorix I was—"

"Why would I tell my father anything?" Rune asked. "Don't look so afraid. You've done nothing wrong."

"I'm supposed to be cleaning the library," Caitlin admitted. "But the book looked so interesting…I know slaves aren't allowed to read, but my mother taught me before—"

"_What?_"

"My mother. She taught me to read, before she—"

"No," Rune said. "The other thing. _Slaves aren't allowed to read_?"

Caitlin shook her head. "No…most don't know how."

Rune frowned, perplexed. "What is your book about?" she asked.

Caitlin passed her the book.

"Sit down," Rune said. "Relax. I'll not report you for taking a break."

"But if it doesn't get done by tonight I'll be in trouble," Caitlin protested. "Your Highness-"

"Rune. Call me Rune. And two sets of hands will make the job easier."

Caitlin stared, dumbfounded. Had the Princess of Alagäesia just offered to help her with her work? "…Very well."

"Good." Rune looked over the book. It was a work of fiction, with an intricately painted leather cover. She handed it back to Caitlin. "Keep it," she said. "It's yours."

"If the slave master finds it, I'll be in trouble," Caitlin said with a shake of her head.

"He searches your things?"

Caitlin laughed. "I don't have anywhere to hide it. I sleep in the slave dorms, with everyone else."

"The men and the women together?"

"Yes."

Rune's eyes widened a little more. "Don't the men give you trouble?"

"They would," Caitlin admitted, "But David protects me."

"David? Is he your lover, then?"

Caitlin, although she had seemed reluctant to open herself to the royal at first, now sat down. "No, he's a friend. A good friend."

Rune nodded. She was about to say more, when the door to the library opened. Caitlin gasped at the sight of a tall, strong looking man. Rune laughed. "Vanir! What brings you here?"

Vanir looked very nervous. He glanced at Rune, then took a deep breath. He strode over to her and sat down at the reading table. "I'd like to talk to you," he said.

Rune raised her eyebrows, signifying him to go ahead.

"It is about Shay," Vanir continued.

"Alright. I'm listening."

Vanir's hand flexed into a fist, then laid flat again. He was _really_ nervous, Rune realized.

"It's…it's about marriage," he blurted.

Rune smiled. "You're going to ask her?"

"I…I would like to," Vanir admitted with a nod. "But I do not know how."

Rune's grinned grew. "Come to the Hold," she told him. "We'll talk there." She glanced at Caitlin. "You too."

Caitlin shrugged and followed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Your lesson is over."

Eragon breathed a sigh of relief. Every inch of him was covered in sweat, and he felt like he hadn't eaten in a week. Súndavar looked like he felt about the same.

"Clean yourselves up," Galbatorix ordered. "You smell like horses."

Both Riders turned to leave. But Galbatorix stopped them. "Wait. Eddyrheart, stay behind, if you please."

"I don't please."

"Try again."

Súndavar muttered something Eragon could distinguish as a colorful list of curses, mostly involving Galbatorix's mother and procreative powers. He almost laughed. If Galbatorix ever pitted them against one another in a swearing match, the dark boy would certainly win.

Eragon closed the door behind him and sat down. He would wait for Súndavar – he owed it to the boy for getting his sweetheart pregnant, after all, not to leave him alone with her father.

Galbatorix cleared his throat. "So," he said. "You are certainly changing."

"It's been three years, your highness."

"Quite. But three years doesn't change someone so…" the King circled Súndavar, dangerously close, and fingered a strand of his hair. "Completely. You're barely the same person any more, little Shadow."

Súndavar stiffened. The last thing he wanted was a nickname from Galbatorix. "Am I so different?"

"Indeed." Galbatorix's fingers caught Súndavar's chin, tilting his head so their eyes locked. "And such interesting irises," he observed. "Not quite Shadelike, is it? More like fire than Shadow. Suppose we call you Brisingr now?"

Súndavar merely scowled.

"I suppose you'd never respond to it, hmm? Teenagers – a bit like dogs. Once they get something in their head, you have to hit them with something to get it out."

Súndavar was silent.

"Tell, me, Súndavar. Have you been having any…" the King grinned. "_Dreams?_"


	11. Heart Writing

**Author's Note: I finally got around to drawing Súndavar. :D There's a picture of him posted on my deviantART account. There's a link to my account in my profile. Hearts, Kittie**

"You were the shadow, weren't you?"

Galbatorix looked distinctly pleased with his pupil as he sipped his wine. Súndavar's hands were clenched, and it looked to be all the boy could do to not throw himself at the king in an attempt to rip him limb from limb.

To keep himself from doing such, Súndavar turned on his heel and strode away. Galbatorix caught his arm. The King's grip was stony and cold.

"You _are_ changing, Súndavar," he said. "And I know why."

Súndavar's eyes widened. He wrenched his arm from the king and stumbled away. He half tripped, half ran from the room, slamming the doors behind him. He leaned against the door, tears streaming down his face.

Eragon touched his shoulder, and Súndavar glanced upwards. The Rider's eyes locked.

"Súndavar, what's wrong?"

"He knew."

With that, Súndavar fled again. His booted feet sounded loud in the hallway as he ran.

He didn't know what he was running from. The King? If that was it, he could stop. Galbatorix had not followed him out of the room. Eragon, perhaps? Rune? _Himself_?

His fear. He was running from his fear.

Súndavar was afraid.

Of himself.

He collapsed on the bed of straw that had been laid out for the dragons in the Hold, and just sobbed. His tears were wet and salty, and made his hair stick to his face. He brushed it away, but the tears wouldn't stop.

_He knew. He knew. He knew._

Lexi…what had happened to her? Was she, even now, in her beautiful sanctuary in the clouds, battling the King's dark aura?

Súndavar almost reached for his dagger. Almost. But he didn't. That part of his life was over.

The stream of tears was renewed, as he thought about everything that he had done. He was not a good person, he knew that. He had hurt those he loved. Slate, Rune, Taten, Lexi, _himself_.

All of them.

When no more tears would come, he curled into a ball in the straw. _Slate,_ his heart cried. _Oh, Slate, where are you? I need you._

His face was an angry shade of red, from the crying. His heart was going wild, and his breath came is gasps. It reminded him of the fists he used to throw, when he was little. Like the fit he had thrown when Ieran had been stabbed in the chest.

He laid there for what seemed like a very long time, before he heard someone enter the Hold. _Probably Eragon,_ he thought. The other Rider wouldn't bother him, he was sure.

"Where's your dragon, Dragon Rider?"

Súndavar sat up. He would recognize that voice anywhere. He glared at its owner. "David."

"Eddyrheart."

The sandy haired boy was cracking his knuckles. Súndavar stood up to face him.

"Oh…been crying have we?" David made a sad face. "And why is that, Sunny?"

"It's Súndavar, slave."

"Look who's talking."

Súndavar clenched his hands into fists, wishing Slate was here to place a single ebony claw on David's chest and push him into the straw like the rat he was.

"I didn't expect to see you again," Súndavar snorted.

"Well, I didn't much expect you to be the next Rider either," David said. "Looks like we both were handed an unpleasant surprise."

Súndavar let out a choking laugh.

"You shouldn't have returned, Empty Heart," David snapped. "That's just like you, being stupid enough to come back."

"You're just angry _I'm_ a Rider and you aren't."

David shook his head. "Well, at least _before_ you were a Rider Alagäesia had a fighting chance." He made a motion with his hand, like a bird flying away. "Oops. There goes the kingdom."

Súndavar was about to shoot an insult back – the bad blood between he and David hadn't been reduced at all, even in three years – when the door opened. His eyes flew to it. "Rune!"

Rune and Caitlin entered. They were laughing about something or another – whatever it was girls giggled about in the first place. David caught Caitlin's hand and pulled her away from Rune's side. "Cait! Don't talk to her!"

Súndavar had grabbed Rune similarly. Both girls looked at the boys in annoyance and confusion. Caitlin and Rune yanked their hands back.

"What's up with you two?" Rune asked.

"You look like you swallowed a sparrow, bones and all," Caitlin added.

Súndavar and David glanced at the girls, then back at one another. Vanir stood by the door. His arms were crossed, and his face held a clear look of disgust at the childishness of them both.

"As we were saying," Rune said, ignoring Súndavar and David and turning back to Vanir. "She'll need a dress."

Vanir raised an eyebrow. "Can't she wear her tunic?"

"No!" Caitlin cried. "You've _got_ to wear a dress. It's not optional."

Rune nodded. "But it can't be white. White is for maidens alone. Blue might be good, to match her eyes and the ring."

David and Súndavar looked on in utter confusion. Both were shocked into silence.

Vanir nodded. "Blue dress. Alright. What about for me?"

But both girls were giggling again. "A cake!" Rune yelped. "You can't forget a cake!"

"A white cake."

"But white is for—" Vanir began confusedly.

"That's a rule for the _dresses_," Rune laughed. "The cake can be white, because it's not a dress."

"It's a cake."

Vanir looked very puzzled.

"Oh! And flowers!" Caitlin grinned. "White roses are best." She answered Vanir's question before he could ask it. "They can be white too. They aren't a dress either."

Vanir nodded. "Couldn't you just tell me how to ask her?" he protested, overwhelmed with the stream of information.

Súndavar and David were still watching in silence. Both found the whole thing a bit disturbing – poor male elf bombarded with girlish giggles and bits of confusing facts that – to a girl – might have made a bit of sense, but to a boy were completely over their heads.

"Oh, there's all different ways," Rune said, nodding. "You could just ask—"

"But that's far too simple. You could ask come creative way, like hiding a ring somewhere she'd find it –"

"Or you could—"

Vanir was clutching his head by now. "I thank you for your help," he said. "But I think I'll figure it out on my own."

With that, he fled. Súndavar and David didn't blame him.

"What was that all about?" they asked as one.

ooooooooooooooooooo

"Ieran?"

The Shade glanced up from what he was doing – sharpening an interesting looking weapon Eragon had never seen the like of – and smiled. "Eragon. Good evening. Sit down."

Eragon sat next to him, and Ieran continued sharpening his weapon. He inspected it carefully. "I found it in the dungeon," he said. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Eragon chewed his lip. "Uhm…what is it?"

Ieran smiled and picked it up. Although it was fairly large, he held it easily. He flicked his wrist, and the weapon snapped into a peculiar shape. "It's called a rikan," he said. "I didn't think there were too many left."

Eragon frowned and touched one of the numberous sharp, spine-like tips on the weapon – which looked almost like a wheel, with Ieran's hand in the center, and intricate spokes coming out to sharp tips – and winced. It left a spot of blood on his finger.

"It's a Shade weapon," Ieran told Eragon. "It comes to us instinctually, almost like a Rider's connection with his dragon."

Eragon thought the idea of a weapon – even a weapon that looked as deadly and yet _beautiful_ as Ieran's—being compared to a dragon was rather farfetched. But when Ieran spun it, his eyes widened. The spikes spun around, even though Ieran's wrist was stationary. Its motion was fluid, smooth and lovely, like a flower.

"Normally there are two of them," Ieran said, flicking his wrist again. It folded, the spikes stopping their dance. "Their weight counteracts one another, making the body a pivot, so you don't fall over. Sort of like a wheel and axel."

Eragon smiled. "It's beautiful."

Ieran nodded sadly. "I'm going to see if I can find the other one," he said. "But if I can't, or if it's in a state beyond repair, then I'm afraid it's useless." He set the rikan down, and smiled at Eragon. "So. What can I do for you?"

"Actually…" Eragon glanced at his hands. "I wanted to talk to you about…being a…er…a father."

Ieran sat down next to Eragon, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure this comes as a surprise to you," he said. "I know it was a shock to me, when Alys – er, Freya, got pregnant."

Eragon nodded. "I just…Rune and I…we're not really ready to be parents."

"You're more ready than I was," Ieran said. "I was fourteen."

Eragon looked at him. "Still. I don't know _anything_ about babies. Or fathers, or anything."

Ieran nodded thoughtfully and sighed. "Eragon, I never took care of Súndavar. Freya did. I wasn't the best father ever, let me assure you."

"But you must have done _some_ things," Eragon protested.

Ieran shrugged. "I'll try to answer your questions, Eragon, but I can only do my best."

"That's all I'm asking for."

"Alright." The Shade nodded. "Then go ahead."

Eragon bit his lip. "My first question is about Rune," he said. "What should I do, while she's…"

Ieran touched his temple. "Didn't your uncle ever talk to you about this sort of thing?"

"No."

"Alright. As far as delivery, you'll have to talk to Rune. I wasn't there, when Súndavar was born. But she may want you to be. It's her choice. If she _doesn't_ want you there, don't push her."

Eragon nodded.

"You'll want to make her comfortable, during her pregnancy, but don't dote. That will make her angry, and angry pregnant women can be dangerous."

Eragon looked confused. "How can I do things for her without doting?"

Ieran sighed. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar glanced at Rune. She had settled into a big chair in the library, and was curled once again with a book in her lap. This time it was a work of poetry, an age old ballad about times before the Blood Oath.

He was trying to take her advice and find something himself, but everything looked unbearably boring. He had contemplated a book about dragon eggs, but it had talked about mating, and thinking about Slate and Saphira like that made him want to throw up. So he rummaged through the books, discarding them in a growing pile.

"Súndavar!" Rune barked angrily. She jumped out of her chair, set her book on it, and stomped towards him. "What are you doing?"

"Searching for a book," he said. "Like you told me."

"You can't just _throw books on the floor_!" she yelped. "Put them away! You've got to show more respect for—"

Súndavar threw his hands up, in the universal 'don't shoot' gesture. "Okay, okay. Don't go all pre-blood on me! I'll put them away!"

Rune nodded in satisfaction and went back to her seat to continue reading.

Súndavar rolled his eyes and picked up one of the books. He set it back on the shelf. His hand brushed something different. He pulled the book away.

On the shelf, behind the other books, a small, leather bound book that looked newer than the others, but just as worn, sat all by itself. Súndavar frowned and picked it up.

The title on the cover was in the Ancient Language. Súndavar's frowned deepened. _Heart Writing._

He opened it, and was met with scrolling penmanship – woman's handwriting. It was dainty and small, but clear. He read the words at the top.

_Alyss of Uru'baen. Her booke. In which she shall record the writings of her heart._

Súndavar nearly dropped the book. A _journal_? Someone had put a _journal_ in the library? Who was Alyss of Uru'baen? A slave? Súndavar thought for a moment. No, she couldn't have been a slave. Most slaves couldn't read, much less write with such neat, perfect curling penmanship.

But then who was she?

He read a little farther.

_Seven and eightieth year of Galbatorix's reign. Fourth month of the year. Second day of the month._

The eighty-seventh year? He scratching the back of his neck, puzzled. That was the year before he was born. Almost exactly. He was born in the fifth month, in the eighty-eighth year.

"Rune?"

Rune glanced up from her book. "What?"

"What year is it? Of the Reign?"

"Three and a hundred. It's the tenth month."

"Thank you."

He sat down at a table, setting the journal in front of him. Below the date, the journal entry began. He felt a bit strange, reading someone's journal, but she was probably dead by now anyways. Whoever Alyss was, she wasn't coming back for her journal, judging by the dust on its cover.

_I feel so unbearably foolish, writing in this booke. Only children and scholars write down their thoughts, and I am certainly neither. A scholar – the thought is laughable. I barely know my times tables, much less anything a scholar would know. And a child – Perhaps a few months ago I was. But I am no longer. The things I have seen in this castle, the things I have heard and the things I have felt…they have robbed me of whatever childhood I had left. Not that I feel it is a loss – children do not last long. I have learned to care for myself._

_Which is why it is silly, writing down my thoughts here. I haven't time for it. But it was a gift, and it certainly is a nice little booke, all leatherbound and assuredly expensive, so I'll humor Ieran and write in it, at least until he forgets it was he who gave it to me._

Súndavar stopped reading. **_Ieran?!_** What was _his father's_ name doing in a girl's diary? With renewed interest, he continued to read.

_Ieran has been very busy lately. The King has him running countless errands. He comes back with blood on his hands. Whose, I don't ask, and Ieran doesn't tell. It is better I do not know. I do not think I could love him as much as I do if I knew where he went at night._

Súndavar's blood turned cold. _WHAT?_ _Love_ him? He snapped the journal shut.

Rune frowned, looking up at him. "Oh! You found a book!"

Súndavar nodded. "Er..yes…"

"What's it about?"

Súndavar glanced at the journal in his hands, then gave Rune a big smile. "It's…a bit disturbing."

She snorted. "Sounds like your kind of book."

He laughed slightly, the laugh dying in his throat and coming out more like 'hmph'. "Yeah. My kind of book indeed."


	12. A Lesson of Strength

_Seven and eightieth year of Galbatorix's reign. Fourth month. Eighth day of the month._

_I honestly hadn't thought I would write in this again. Ieran has not asked me about this booke, he seems to have forgotten it already – not that I blame him. A birthday gift for your sweetheart hardly exceeds any importance on Ieran's list of things to remember. I'm lucky he remembered my birthday at all._

_Ieran is precisely the reason I am writing here tonight. He was out late tonight, as he always is. When he came back to our room, the moon was high, and there was only a few hours of darkness left. I pretended to be looking through my clothes as he washed the crimson from his hands._

_He always kisses me, when he gets back. He always tells me that he loves me, and that no matter what the King makes him do, our love will never change. But this time it was different. He just collapsed on the bed, and looked too tired to move._

_I crawled in next to him – I was afraid. What had gone wrong? When I asked, all he said was "You needn't worry."_

_But I **do**. I worry about him terribly. His heart was going wild in his chest, I felt it there when he pressed himself against me. The way he held me, it was almost…almost as if he was shielding me. From what, I know not. But I know one thing about Ieran I never knew before:_

_Ieran is afraid of something._

Súndavar turned the page with growing confusion. It was a new entry, dated two days later. The page was spattered with red. Blood.

_Ieran returned as he usually does. He seemed more tired than usual. When I asked, he said it was best I did not know. I placed my hand on his arm, then, and it came away red. Blood. But it wasn't the blood that Ieran washes from his hands each night. It was Ieran's own blood._

_My heart skipped two beats as I ordered him out of his tunic. He obeyed with only minimal reluctance._

_He was covered in them. Thousands of cuts, as if he had been dragged through a thorn bush. I didn't know where to start. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I began sobbing._

"_That's it!" I told him. "I can't do this anymore!"_

_Even though he was hurt, Ieran hugged me. He's only fourteen, just as I am, but he's so strong. I suppose he has to be. He kissed my forehead. "Alyss, I'm fine. They're just skin deep. Nothing a little magic won't heal."_

_But he was so tired. I forced him into bed, and he fell asleep almost instantly. I then went to talk to Freya._

_Freya will know what to do. She's strong, and wise, and I can't imagine her ever being lost. Not at all like me._

_I'm waiting for her now, in the library. Mew went to fetch her for me._

_Here she is now._

Súndavar frowned. He wanted to turn the page, read more. Ieran had told him his mother's name was Freya. But before he could read on, he felt a familiar tugging at his mind. His heart leapt. A moment later, a voice rang into his head.

_Shadow!_

Ecstatic, Súndavar snapped the book closed and shoved it under his bad. He could barely run out of his tiny room and into the Hold fast enough.

Slate greeted him with a plume of brilliant flame. Súndavar grinned even wider as the fiery flower blossomed upwards into the sky. Before he could do anything else, Slate had wrapped his tail around him. The dragon licked his Rider affectionately.

_Get off, puppy dog!_ Súndavar yelped, throwing his hands up to ward against the dragon's 'kisses'. Slate paid him no mind. He wrapped his tail tighter around Súndavar's waist until the rider couldn't move.

When Slate set him down, Súndavar as entirely covered in dragon spit. He didn't look amused.

Eragon, Saphira, and Matrix were watching, looking slightly awkward. Then Eragon began laughing. Slate licked him too, in greeting.

Then Súndavar cracked up.

The Riders had side aches by the time they managed to calm down.

Súndavar tried to clean himself off, but only succeeded in becoming more sticky and gooey with the dragon spit. Eragon wasn't about to offer assistance – it was too funny watching him try. Finally Súndavar resorted to stripping, discarding his clothes on the floor until he wore nothing but his underwear.

"Just hope Rune doesn't come in," Eragon laughed.

Súndavar laughed with him. "I need to borrow a tunic," he said, grinning. The return of the dragons had put him in uncharacteristic high spirits.

Eragon waved him to his own room. "I probably have something in there."

Súndavar nodded his thanks, before darting off. Eragon could see goosebumps rising on his bare back. It _was_ pretty cold, especially when you were shirtless and covered in dragon saliva.

Saphira nudged Slate's neck with her nose. Her mate nodded.

_I have news, Eragon._

The Rider laid a hand on his dragon. _Oh?_

_You are not the only parent-to-be._

Saphira's voice was full of pride. She and Slate glanced lovingly at one another, then down at Eragon.

The Rider was staring at them in shock. Matrix lifted her head. The old dragoness had become sluggish, locked up in the Hold as she was. Her scales had lost their luster, and her eyes no longer glittered so brightly.

She blew a ring of smoke that curled into a heart and silhouetted Saphira and Slate for a moment, before disappearing into the darkening air. Then she went back to sleep.

Eragon was still staring in shock.

_Are you not happy?_ Saphira demanded.

But Eragon could say nothing.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"Shay?"

Shay glanced up at Vanir, then back at Lily. The two young women were sitting together on a bench in the garden.

"Hello Vanir," Shay said pleasantly.

Vanir's hand went to his pocket, where the ring laid. "I wanted to, uhm, ask you something."

Shay looked at him. "Oh?" she smiled. "Can it wait? Lily and I were just headed to the kitchens – fresh air makes me hungry."

"Me too," Lily added, and the twins began laughing. Vanir was forgotten.

The elf wanted to protest, but instead, he turned on his heel and walked away. At least he knew she was okay now. She would probably come to their bedroom tonight – he would ask her then.

Sighing, Vanir began to count the minutes.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"I'm sorry."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "You know? Since you've gotten here nearly the only words you've said to me are 'I'm sorry'. Four times. A bit repetitive."

"I'm sorry," Rune said automatically, before blushing. She sat down next to Murtagh. "Are you mad at me?"

"About losing your conversation skills? Not much."

"I meant about laying Eragon."

Murtagh brushed his hair away from his eyes and frowned before responding. "I guess I'll be an uncle then, hmm?"

"You didn't answer my question."

The Rider met her eyes. "I'm not sure if I should be mad at you, or at Eragon, or at both of you. Or perhaps neither." He shrugged. "Lily oft spent the night in my chambers," he said, "but we _control_ ourselves."

"It wasn't my fault."

"Hence _lack of control_."

Rune frowned. "What has made you so bitter?"

Murtagh sighed. "I've missed you," he said, although they both knew that was not the reason. "It gets lonely."

"What of Thorn?"

Murtagh shrugged. "He's been a bit distant, since he and Shruikan ran off together to fetch Lily. Almost as if he does not need me." Then he cursed under his breath. "Why in all the realm am I telling _you_?" he asked. Rune wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself. "You ran off. You tumbled Eragon. _Eragon_. _And_ now carry his child. Eragon's! What a stupid, bloody, awful, mess…"

Rune touched his shoulder. "Please don't be angry. I'm not particularly happy with the fact myself, you know."

Murtagh just snorted.

"Murtagh, you are my friend. You have always been my friend, since you first came kicking and screaming like a child throwing a tantrum, all chained up by the Urgals. You were my friend when Thorn hatched, and you were my friend when you let me cry and get your tunic all wet." She paused. "Please don't let what happened between your brother and I get in the way of that."

Murtagh glanced at her, then away. He stood up. "I don't know, Rune," he said. "I'll have to think about it."

Without waiting for her protest, Murtagh walked briskly away, leaving Rune alone.

He resisted the urge to glance back.

ooooooooooooooooooo

"I sense your dragons have returned."

Eragon and Súndavar glanced at one another. Then they nodded. Rune watched them with a careful eye from her chair.

"Shruikan will train them," Galbatorix waved. "But is good to know they add their strength to yours."

"What do you attempt to teach us today?" Súndavar questioned. Both Riders were hoping it was a lesson in magic – such would be one of their first steps to becoming strong enough to defeat Galbatorix.

But the king just smiled. "Today we will learn about strength."

"We're strong," Súndavar complained.

Galbatorix let out a choking laugh. "I'll not comment on that," he said. "But that is not the type of strength I am talking about. I am referring to inner strength."

Rune snorted.

"By this, I mean the type of strength you will need to do things…unpleasant."

"An example?" Eragon asked, hating the man in front of him. _You mean the strength to murder people._

"Say a building is burning," Galbatorix said. "There are twenty people trapped inside. However, a child is drowning nearby. You cannot save them both. Which will you choose, rescue an innocent or save the greater number? _That_ is the type of strength I am referring to."

"I'd send my dragon to rescue the child and shield the people inside with magic until I could get the fire out," Súndavar said stubbornly.

"You're missing the point."

"It's a bad point."

Súndavar suddenly found a sharp pain in his head. He swayed, and Eragon caught him before he fell over with dizziness. His vision swam.

"Think before you talk back to me," Galbatorix said simply. "Clear?"

"Clear," Súndavar muttered through clenched teeth, and the pain evaporated. Eragon let go, and Súndavar stayed on his feet. His eyes twisted angrily, but he did nothing in retribution.

"Then let that be a lesson to you," Galbatorix said. "Now. I am going to instruct you to do several things…less than pleasant. In this lesson, no one will be hurt. But you will not enjoy it."

Súndavar and Eragon shared a glance.

"I had originally intended using Rune," Galbatorix said. "I'm sure she wouldn't have minded, as she is fond of you both. However, the fact that she is with child compromises this possibility."

"You wanted us to –" Súndavar was staring at him wide-eyed. "To-to-to…" he couldn't go on, he was so appalled. Then he sat down. "I'll not be taught by you," he growled. "You wanted us to – for a lesson! Your own daughter!"

Galbatorix began to laugh. "You think I intended you to tumble her? In front of me? Even I have not the stomach for that!" The king stopped laughing suddenly. "I was intending to do littler things. Make slits in her skin with rose thorns, insert splinters under her fingernails, burn the pads of her feet with hot coals. Nothing magic wouldn't heal."

Now it was Eragon's turn to gape. Súndavar glanced at Rune. She was busy throwing up behind the chair – whether from morning sickness or horror at what her father implied he was going to make the Riders do, the boy couldn't tell.

"But I'd not risk the child," Galbatorix said. "After all – a grandchild could be of use to me, especially one I share with Morzan." He glanced at Rune, then at Eragon and smiled cruelly. "Who can know? Perhaps it will inherit some of our more…appealing traits."

Eragon had begun to shake. "My child will be nothing like _you!_" he screamed, momentarily losing control.

"You forget," Galbatorix laughed. "Half its blood is dark as night."

Eragon looked about to throw himself at the king. Súndavar placed a hand on his shoulder and reached out with his mind.

_He is trying to sway you,_ he said. _He wants you to hate. Hate leads to a Fall._

Eragon glanced at the other Rider, and nodded. He let his hands out of fists and took a deep breath. For a slipping moment, he thought he saw – disappointment? – in the King's eyes.

Rune had recovered from her nausea and was crying into her hands. Her shoulders shook.

Galbatorix sighed irritably. "Shut her up, one of you," he ordered. "Pregnant girls can be so bothersome."

Súndavar retreated to Rune's side, wrapping his arms carefully around her. "Hush," he whispered in her ear – though he need not whisper, as Galbatorix and Eragon were too far to hear – "We'll be fine. All be will right."

She looked up at him, face puffy and red from crying. "I am afraid." She whispered back.

He kissed her on the nose and tickled her a little bit. "Don't be. Now be strong. We're still having a lesson."

"Súndavar?" Rune asked as he walked away, back to the others.

"Hmm?"

"If he wants to you do something? You can do it."

"What do you – "

"To me. If he wants you to hurt me." She glanced at her hands. "If it will make you strong enough to kill him, then do it."

Súndavar bit his lip, then nodded. He strode purposefully back to the others.

Galbatorix smiled – his smiles, Eragon realized, reminded the young Rider of a snake – and clapped his hands. "As Rune can be of no service, I've chosen another subject." Two black men with iron around their wrists – spelled iron, for slaves – led in a girl. She was about Rune's age.

"Caitlin!" Rune cried. She got up off her chair and ran to the other girl. Caitlin refsed to meet her eyes sadly. In front of the king, she would show no connection to Rune – it could bring trouble.

"Lay down, slave," Galbatorix told her. Caitlin obeyed, and the two black men left the room.

Galbatorix handed Eragon and Súndavar each a shard of glass he had pulled from his robe. "I want you both to carve your names into flesh," he said. "Once you are finished, you may heal your cuts – no harm done."

Eragon glanced at Caitlin, then at Súndavar. Rune had begun crying again and shaking her head, muttering things like "not her" and sniffing loudly. Galbatorix glanced her way. "I want you to do it as well," he said. "Hope knows you need to toughen up a bit."

Rune shook her head, tears still rolling down her face.

But he forced a shard of glass into her hand. "Lycona would have," he told her with a snort. "Don't be cowardly."

Eragon kneeled beside Caitlin. "Are you alright?" he asked her. She didn't respond.

"This is not my choice," he continued, not pushing her. "It will hurt, but I will make it better when I am finished. I will not blame you for hating me."

"I will not hate you, Slayer of Shades." Caitlin's voice was so soft, Eragon barely heard it. She was afraid, but she was strong.

With a quick slice, Eragon made a cut in her arm. She winced, but only barely. He made three more, quickly, to finish the _E_. Using as few cuts as he could, he wrote his name in blood.

Galbatorix inspected his handiwork. "Very well. Heal her, if you so wish."

Eragon whispered the words, and the cuts healed. Caitlin let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"Your turn, Súndavar."

The boy went to his knees. He touched Caitlin's cheek in an apologetic way, and carefully wrote his name on her other arm. He could tell it hurt her – he remembered such pain himself – but she didn't shake or cry out.

Galbatorix nodded permission for the wounds to be healed, and Súndavar did so.

"Rune?"

Rune showed him her arm. Just above her wrist, in the area Súndavar had used to cut himself, she had written _Thornessa. _Her lettering was better than Súndavar's or Eragon's – she hadn't cared about causing pain, as if was to herself she was doing such.

"You said to carve it in flesh," she said. "You did not say it could not be my own."

To everyone's surprise, Galbatorix began to laugh. "You are right, little _dauthleikr_," he chortled. "I did not indeed."

Súndavar moved to heal Rune's arm, but he felt his strength leave him.

"No," Galbatorix said with a shake of his head. "Rune will bear her scars as a reminder she has failed."

Rune grinned triumphantly. "You are wrong," she said. "I will bear my scars as a reminder I have won."


	13. A Proposal and Reunion

Time has a habit of being predictable. Hours have a habit of blending into days, and days have a habit of blending into weeks. Such weeks, as they pass, are lost and little remembered, even to those who lived them through.

Such did time pass for those in Galbatorix's castle. The Riders continued their training, growing stronger with each day, each week. Yet the defeat of their trainer still seemed far off.

Inside Rune, the child was growing, beginning to show. Her dresses had gotten too tight, and she had resorted to wearing tunics – often borrowed from Eragon or Súndavar.

The Shade-boy had slept soundly, with no dreams plaguing his nightly hours. Worry and unease would often show in his face, but when asked he said he simply hadn't slept well. In truth, he worried for Lexi, who had ceased to appear to him, since Galbatorix had invaded his dreams. He had not even touched the little book hidden under his bed.

Rune had adjusted well into the role of mother-to-be, and looked at the father of her child with nothing but fondness and admiration. It was almost questionable whether or not she really felt nothing for him romantically – which was beginning to drive Súndavar insane.

Eragon swung his sword, muscles in his arms flexing. He was shirtless, skin slick with sweat. And yet still Galbatorix managed to bat his sword away harmlessly.

"Come now, little Rider!" the king roared in laughter. "Again."

Eragon faked one way, a backhanded strike, before swinging into a fronthanded jab. Again Galbatorix's sword struck his aside, as useless as a child's toy.

Eragon's footing was beginning to falter. His breath was coming in heavy gasps, his hair soaked with his own sweat. He tried another attack, but the king didn't bother to ward it off. He simply stepped backwards, and the sword passed him by harmlessly.

"I did not even make you dull your blade, Argetlam," Galbatorix mocked. "Again. Cleave my head from my shoulders."

Eragon tried to swing his sword again, but it had become too heavy. He realized in anger that Galbatorix had not thrown a single swing of his own – only warded against Eragon's. Though old in years, the man was young in body, and he had not broken a sweat.

And Eragon had thought he was a good swordsman.

Eragon's vision swum, and he rocked on his feet. Rune barked something that Eragon couldn't pick up. His sword dropped from his hands, clattering to the ground.

Rune was out of her seat as fast as a woman in her state could. Súndavar tried to grab her hand, knowing she couldn't support Eragon on her own, but she pulled away and ran to him. She touched his chest, his stomach, his shoulders, his face. "Eragon? Eragon, are you alright?"

Súndavar walked to them and put one arm around the disoriented Rider, helping to support him back to the large seat. He managed to get Eragon laid down on it, before whispering something.

As his strength flowed into Eragon, Súndavar felt the familiar feeling of power surge into his veins. How and why magic made him stronger, rather then taking strength, he no longer questioned. Eragon stopped shaking with tiredness and passed out.

When Súndavar glanced back at Galbatorix, the king's eyes were wide with something…perhaps…a bit like fear.

It was gone before he even realized it was there.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Vanir ran his fingers through his hair tiredly. The time that had passed was beginning to wear terribly on the elf – between being ignored and missing his sweet Ellesméra, he was in a sorry state indeed. It didn't help that he could do very little to help the Riders or even Rune.

He had tried to ask several more times, but each he was either shrugged off or lost the courage.

_Coward_, he cursed himself. _Unable to even catch a lover's attention._

His hopeless devotion to her really _was _pathetic. He kicked himself for acting like a stupid dog. Yet he _loved_ her. What else could he do? He took the ring out of his pocket and opened its little box.

"Troubles, elf?"

Vanir's eyes flew upwards, to Ieran. The Shade was spinning a curious weapon that slightly resembled a wheel with numberous deadly spikes attatched to it. Vanir recognized it as a rikan – a Shade's weapon. He had thought they had all been destroyed centuries ago. Apparently he was wrong.

How unfortunate.

"None that concern you," Vanir said, snapping the ring box closed.

Ieran raised his eyebrows slightly, before sitting down. With a flick of his wrist, the rikan folded and Ieran tucked it in a sheath. Vanir looked at it with disgust.

"It is unnatural," he said with scorn, "That a being should be bonded to a crafted thing as if to a lover."

Ieran just smiled and shrugged. "I didn't expect you to approve, Vanir of House Haldthin."

"Then why do you come to me?"

Ieran took out his rikan again, flicked it, and began to sharpen the tips – which seemed almost therapeutic, to him. "I have heard Miss Everwood speaking to her sister."

"She has every right to speak to her sister."

"I mean of you. They talk of you."

Vanir frowned, his interest piqued. "Do they?"

Ieran glanced at him and nodded. "Aye." He folded the rikan, put it away, and began walking away.

Vanir stood up to catch up to him. "Ieran!" he called. "What do they say?"

Ieran shrugged and grinned. "It's not my place to get in the matters of you and your lover," he said. "Such would make me a busy-body, and no one likes that."

With that, the Shade strode off to wherever it was he disappeared to during most of the daylight hours.

Vanir watched him go, then cursed and kicked the wall angrily.

_Sweet Hope, Everwood_, he thought, _why must you be so cursedly difficult?_

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"Suppose he's getting tired of you being so cursedly difficult."

Shay glanced at her sister, then back at the ivy wall. "Lily, I'm not being difficult."

"You're avoiding him."

"You're avoiding Murtagh."

"He kissed Rune."

Shay's eyebrows shot up. "Why didn't you tell me that?" she asked. Then she shrugged. "Not that it matters. Lots of people kiss Rune."

Lily ran her fingers through her hair and glanced at her reflection in the little pool of water nearby. She pursed her lips and flicked her hair, smoothing her dress.

"Oh, stop staring at yourself!" Shay barked good-naturedly. "Help

Lily rolled her eyes and abandoned her reflection. "Shay, do you really think your surprise is going to make up for your total lack of interest in him for the past….long time?"

"Unlike you and your Rider friend, Vanir and I are mates. Practically married. He'll understand."

"If he doesn't, can I have him?"

Shay smacked her sister over the head pleasantly.

"What? He's very handsome."

Shay grinned deviously. "I know. And you've never seen him shirtless."

Lily clapped, laughing. "Will you tell him your surprise tonight?" she asked.

Shay nodded. "Yes. Tonight."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Caitlin slunk around David carefully, sitting down on her bed and beginning to pick at her food. The boy had been in bad spirits lately, even though Caitlin had not told him of what had transpired in the training room.

"You are troubled," she said softly.

He glanced at her, then down at his hands. "Yeah," he muttered gruffly.

"I'm worried about you."

David scowled, narrowing his eyes. Then he looked up at Caitlin, face softening. "Sorry. I'm just…preoccupied."

"With Súndavar?"

"No!" David cried angrily, before lowering his voice. "I mean…yes. Perhaps."

"What _is_ it between you two anyways?"

David just shrugged. "Some secrets need to be kept. Even from you. Sorry."

Caitlin sighed and shrugged. "No problem. I'm used to secrets. There are far too many around here."

David nodded in agreement.

Through the open doorway, the two saw a man brush past, dressed in a heavy black cloak. Ieran.

"Like him," Caitlin commented.

"He's Súndavar's father. He's a Shade." David was suddenly serious.

Caitlin frowned, puzzled. "A Shade? Really? But he seems…I can't decide what to think of him. But I am not afraid of him."

David got up and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Business," he said. "Sit tight – I won't take long."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ieran knew he was being followed. The boy made very little noise, accustomed to sneaking around the castle as slaves must, yet the Shade knew. He didn't try to lose his follower – he had already been seen. Nor did he glance back.

He was not surprised when he spoke his name.

"Ieran."

He turned. The sandy haired boy was staring at him with brown, discerning eyes. Searching eyes. What they searched his face for, Ieran could not tell. The Shade didn't reach for his weapon – there was no hostility in the boy's face.

A sense of familiarity made Ieran frown. "…David? Are you David?"

The boy nodded once.

Ieran's frown disappeared, and he smiled. "It does me good to see you well."

"You remember me, then."

Ieran smiled, and stepped forward. He seemed almost awkward for a moment, hesitating between a hug or a handshake. He settled on the handshake, before placing his hand on David's shoulder.

"You have grown into a fine young man, it would seem."

"Have I?"

"There is strength in you," Ieran affirmed.

David momentarily let his guard slip, showing a tiny smile. "I thank you, Ieran, for your kindness."

"It is not kind. It is the truth."

"Then I thank you even more."

Ieran smiled at the young man. "How have you been?"

"Well enough, after Súndavar left."

Ieran's smiled faltered. "Still bad blood between you two, then?"

David nodded.

"I had rather hoped it was a phase of two four year olds."

"Nay. We're enemies good and well, and that is how things shall stay."

Ieran closed his eyes sadly, his hand slipping from David's shoulder. "Pity," he said quietly. "For such is one more enemy we cannot afford."

With that, the man withdrew, walking off down the hallway.

"Ieran!"

"What, David?"

"Where are you going?"

The Shade turned and smiled. "Where do Shades go when there's no one watching?"

David grinned back, repeating the phrase he had heard Ieran say over and over when he was a child. "To the dungeon, of course."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Thorn sniffed at the eggs curiously, turning one over with his nose. Saphira stood over them protectively, not taking her eyes away.

_Three,_ Thorn commented. _A good number._

The trio of glistening eggs shone lustrously. Each glimmered like a different coloured jewel in the darkening room.

Slate hissed at Thorn. _Leave now, King's Toy!_ he hissed. _You've seen them, so go!_

Saphira touched his affectionately on the neck with her nose. _Hush. He means well._

_I care not what he means. He must go._

Saphira glanced at Thorn, then back at her mate. _Very well._ She nodded at Thorn, and the other dragon blew a small jet of flame at the eggs. _Keep them warm,_ he said, before taking to the air and flying from the Hold.

Saphira frowned at Slate. _Why do you hiss at him?_

_I do not like him._

_He is Eragon's brother's heart-bond,_ Saphira said angrily. _Practically an uncle to them. I want you to be civil._

Slate snorted. _As you wish._

Matrix was watching them. _My mate and I once fought as you do,_ she said. _Have you thought of what shall become of your children?_

_They will be Rider's mounts, as we are,_ Saphira said.

_Yet you have not had them bound yet._

Saphira and Slate glanced at one another.

_We are unsure exactly how to go about such._

Matrix breathed in, then exhaled smoke. _You are sure such is a fate you wish? They may not hatch for years – nigh, centuries._

_We are of immortal blood,_ Slate said. _We can wait._

Matrix frowned. _Then come with me. I know all too well how to do what you seek._

Spreading her elegant wings, Matrix took to the sky.

Saphira breathed fire on the eggs, to keep them warm in her absence, before following the dragoness. Slate glanced at his children, sleeping in their crystal prisons, and beat his wings to follow his mate.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I have to talk to you."

Vanir and Shay spoke the words in unison. They both turned red.

"You can go first," they said at once.

Vanir looked at Shay, then at the ground, before turning a deeper shade of red. "Maybe…maybe I should go first."

Shay nodded and bit her lip cutely. "Alright."

Vanir took out a single, red rose and began playing with it. "I have been trying to ask you this for a long time," he said. "At first, I thought perhaps the reason I have not is because I was upset with you, for spending so much time with your sister."

"I'm—"

"Hush, I must finish," he said, touching her cheek. "I realized I was not upset with you. Your sister is close to you in a way I can never be. You share blood. You grew up together. I am not angry with you for that. The reason I have not asked is because I was afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Afraid you would refuse." Vanir handed her the rose.

Shay looked at it in confusion. "Vanir, if you wanted to give me flowers, you could have at any time. It's very pretty."

He shook his head, and whispered something. The flower opened.

In the folded petals of the rose, laid Vanir's ring. Shay stared at it in shock.

"Shay Everwood? I…I am not good at this sort of thing. It is not an elf custom. But I would like it very much if…if you would…consider, perhaps…becoming my wife."

Shay stared at the ring, her mouth hanging open. Then she picked it from in between the rose petals with careful fingers. She slipped it on her finger, still staring at it. Then she embraced him.

"Yes," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "Yes."

He hugged her back, tightly. They didn't let go for a long time.

When they did, Vanir held her at arm's length. "You wanted to tell _me_ something?"

"It seems so silly, now," Shay laughed, hugging him again.

Vanir made a face. "Come now! Tell."

She blushed. "Vanir?"

"Yes, Shay Everwood of House Haldthin?"

"I want to have a baby."

Vanir fainted.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Alexia screamed again, throwing herself against the crystal surface. She pounded on it with her fists._

"_Let me out!" she shrieked. "Let me out!"_

_She could sense the Others staring at her, but she didn't care. None approached her – she scared them. She was different. There were not many things that were different here._

"_Súndavar!" she screamed. "Súndavar, help me!"_

_But the Shadow-boy didn't answer. He was far away, unable to offer any assistance. She broke down crying against the wall._

_A single memory walked towards her, glowing blue with the life-light of the Motherstone._

"_Stop screaming, little one," he said. He picked her up in strong arms, as she sobbed quietly._

"_I want out," she whimpered. "I was out! I was free!"_

_The man looked at her sadly. "Unfortunately, death is a chain that binds us all."_

_Lexi's small hands clenched into fists, her white eyes narrowing dangerously. "Hope," she said, "Can defeat even death."_


	14. Gifts and Curses

_I spoke to Freya, about the cuts Ieran came home with. She said not to worry. She always says not the worry. Curse the elf woman and her purity! I cannot go on like this, not knowing what shall happen or even what has already transpired. Ieran offered to take me, if it would get my mind from things, being his lover, but I refused. I love him dreadfully, but I could not give myself to him as he is now. A child would add to both of our burdens, and I cannot do that to him._

_Curses. Curses, curses. My mind bursts with foul things to say, but I shall not write them. Durza is right – I cannot use bad language. He himself curses like a boatman, especially when things do not go as he wishes._

Súndavar stopped reading at the end of the page. This entry did little to intrigue him – except for the part about Durza's language. Súndavar himself was rather good at swearing and vulgar language in general – having picked up quite a bit from slaves in his former livelihood – but he had no doubt the dead Shade could have beaten him by a long shot.

He flipped the page. The next entry was dated two days later.

_I feel silly, turning to this booke in times of distress. But already is has become my solace, my rock. The one thing I can count on, amidst the walls of this unsure place, is that here is a place I can turn and write my thoughts down, make them come out straight. _

_Ah, but I ramble. As I said previously – this is a time of distress, indeed. The castle has a new inhabitant. Not another slave, though they change often. Such are always dieing, being bought, giving birth. I should be happy I am not as one of them. Women receive no respect among them – there are many babies born which the father could be any of four, or five men. Poor Freya. She is so beautiful, it is doubtful that she herself has gone untouched. Yet she does not complain._

_Again, I am rambling. My distress is this – it would seem Galbatorix has gone and gotten himself a lover. Her name is Lycona, and she is of elf blood. She is beautiful, really. Gorgeous, with hair of gold and eyes of sorrel-leaf that seem to peer into your soul. Around his Highness, she is quiet and says little. But she curses him behind his back. I do believe she could out-curse Durza. And still, she's a lady! She is very old, I think, **very, very** old, yet still she is lovely and ladylike and gentle._

_What I meant, when I said that this was a distress – for Lycona is hardly a distress, but a new friend – is that Galbatorix is more outgoing than ever. He is almost **jovial**. Ieran has told me that his assignments from the king are getting increasingly difficult in his good spirits._

_I hate Galbatorix. If only I had Durza's mouth, I could write down how much I hate him._

_Well, Durza's mouth and stomach to curse so, that is._

At the bottom of the page, a picture had been drawn. It was beautiful, really, a little doodle with the caption 'Lycona as she looks around Freya and I'. The woman had high cheekbones, flowing hair, and intense eyes. Alyss had managed to get a hold on some green ink, which she had used for Lycona's irises.

Lycona. Lycona was Rune's mum.

Súndavar turned the page. It was written nearly a month later.

_It has happened. Sweet hope, it has happened and it was wonderful! Ieran came home, and there was no blood on his hands. He swept me into his arms and his hands found their way under my dress, and before I knew what had happened we were making a wonderful, forbidden sort of love. It was so…I love him, I love him more than ever now. Ieran, my sweet, why did we wait so **long** to share this pleasure? How sweet he tasted, how wonderful his touch felt as we danced in that rhythm I'll not forget, as long as I live. His passion was beautiful, so sweet and unforgettable and magnificent. I am so glad to have become so close to him, so glad to have felt his touch in this new and wonderful way._

_Lover._

_Ieran is my lover._

Súndavar snapped the book closed, tossed it on his bed, and threw up. His stomach was twisting in knots. It was one thing to hear about love-making from Oromis in a 'talk', but it was another thing entirely to hear about it from a girl, in her diary, with his **_father_** no less. His head whirled, and he thought he was going to be sick again.

Slate poked his nose into the Rider's room. He sniffed, then sneezed.

_Your stomach is unwell?_

_Probably just something I ate,_ Súndavar dismissed. Slate, however, was not convinced.

_Come here, you look pale._

_I'm always pale._

_You look paler than your normal level of pale,_ Slate snapped. _Now get out here so I can look at you._

Súndavar reluctantly agreed, marching dutifully out of his room and standing in front of Slate. He was naked to the waist, and goosebumps rose on his skin from the cold. Rune glanced at him, from where she was seated, reading to both the eggs and her baby from a children's book she had found in the library. Her eyes flicked over his naked chest, and a small smile appeared on her lips before she went on.

Slate was poking and prodding at Súndavar mercilessly with his nose. The Shade-boy groaned and slapped him away. _Slate, I'm fine!_ He barked, embarrassed to be babied so in front of Rune.

"Hope, what happened to you?" Eragon asked, coming out of his own room. "You look as if you just caught your parents in bed or something."

_You don't know the half of it,_ Súndavar thought. But he just smiled. "That would be a bit difficult, as my mum's dead."

Eragon shrugged, and went to Rune's side. The girl kissed his cheek fondly, making Súndavar scowl, before handing him the book. Eragon began to read. Both looked so off in their own little world, Súndavar couldn't resist but curse under his breath. What _was_ it with them, anyways? You would think the novelty of Rune being pregnant would have worn off by now. Yet the two of them were _still_ acting like giggly children about it – holding hands, blushing, chewing on fingernails shyly around each other, the whole cursed nine leagues.

Slate noticed him staring at them, and struck him – firmly, just enough to hurt – in the stomach with the point of his nose. Súndavar cringed, doubling over.

_If you're about to be sick again, don't do it here,_ Slate said pleasantly. _And you'd best clean up the floor in your room as well._

_You're despicable._

_I love you too, Rider._

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Lunge, backhand parry, strike, retreat. Lunge, overhand strike, parry, retreat._ Súndavar's sword had settled into a steady pattern as it danced around the King's. Galbatorix was attacking lightly, giving Súndavar the parrying practice he had not given to Eragon. The other Rider was watching quietly from the large chair. Rune was slumbering on his shoulder, her mouth open in an unladylike but somehow – to Súndavar, at least – adorable way.

"Watch how he dances!" Galbatorix laughed. "You strike light but quick, little Shadow."

Súndavar grinned at the observation. He wasn't as strong as Eragon, by any means, but his blade moved twice as fast. It pleased him that Galbatorix had chosen to attack him slightly, rather than just parrying.

"See, Eragon? Allow your enemy to throw the moves, and retaliate when they have tired themselves."

Turning on his pupil, Galbatorix's sword doubled pace. It rapped Súndavar across each rib, his collar bones, and ended on his stomach. "You are dead," he said. "You were beginning to enjoy this, beginning to get cocky. And for that you lay bleeding at my feet."

Súndavar frowned, touching the places the sword had hit him. They stung terribly, and were burning red, but strangely…he didn't mind. The feeling was almost pleasant. He touched one of the marks on his bare chest and frowned, before poking at one on his stomach.

"Did you poison your blade?" He asked in confusion. "It feels a bit strange."

His eyes met Galbatorix's face, and the king was staring at him in shock.

"What?"

The old man blinked, and the look was gone. "Nothing. Eragon, you are dismissed. Carry my daughter back to whosever bedroom she's chosen to inhabit at the moment."

Súndavar had a clear idea that would be Eragon's own.

As the Rider left the room, Galbatorix said something else, as if by the way. "And Eragon?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I can teach you little more without a better knowledge of magic. Tomorrow we begin to work on such skills."

Súndavar's heart jumped. Magic! This meant they were one step closer to defeating the King. The Shade-boy moved to follow Eragon out.

"I did not say you could leave, Shadow."

_Shadow_. It made Súndavar uncomfortable, having been given a pet name by Galbatorix. But he didn't protest. Instead, he turned.

"Yes, milord?"

Galbatorix was frowning softly. "Where did you get your sword, Shadow?"

"The Varden gave it to me," Súndavar said.

"Ah. The little Thorns." Galbatorix ran his fingers through his hair. "Come with me."

He began walking in the direction of the large tapestry that hung on the wall. It had been embroidered with a map of Alagäesia, decorated with scenes from fairy stories. It was rather pretty, in truth. A Woman-Shade even stood in one of the corners, staring out with beautiful pinkish eyes. She wore little, and although she was just a legend, Súndavar wished he could have met her.

"Her name is Liadan," Galbatorix said, standing before the huge tapestry. "She was a great fighter, and a very beautiful woman." He glanced at Súndavar. "Or so the legend says." He placed his hand on the tapestry. "_Rïsa._"

The great thing rose, revealing a door. It was a simple door, like the one coming in. Not a secret door, just a door with a tapestry in front of it.

"I had always wondered how you got in here," Súndavar commented. "You never seem to use the door, and you are always here before us."

The King laughed slightly. "Open it," he said.

Súndavar had learned enough from Oromis to second guess this. Instead of reaching out for the handle, he reached out with his mind. A strong locking spell met his consciousness, tingling like his chest had when the King had struck him. He frowned just a bit.

"It is locked," he said. "But I cannot get around the spell."

"Nay, all that can is my truest name," Galbatorix said. His mind struck at Súndavar's, making the boy dizzy, and by the time he had recovered the door was open.

"Excuse the attack," the King said. "But I couldn't very well let you hear it."

Súndavar just held his forehead and moaned.

"Come along."

The King lead Súndavar through the bowels of the castle, the places not even slaves were allowed. Súndavar tried to sneak glances around doorways, but they were all locked tight.

At last they reached a door. On this one, Súndavar could detect no lock.

Galbatorix opened the door, let Súndavar in, and closed it.

Súndavar felt like he was going to faint.

Swords. Thousands of them. Hung from every surface, sheathed and shining, were thousands of swords. Some were fine, others simple, some inset with rubies and diamonds, others crystal or nothing at all.

"This room," Galbatorix said, his voice low and prideful, "Is my greatest joy. My only joy. My trophies, all of them. I know each by name, and know who it was taken from. A grander collection, you're naught to find in all the world over."

Súndavar reached out to touch a blade, but Galbatorix held him back with a firm hand on his arm. "They are spelled," he said. "Why do you think I did not lock this room, if it is my finest?"

Súndavar was confused. "With all due respect, why do you show me this?" he asked. "I do not put it past you to brag, but this seems like letting me a bit deep, don't you think?"

The King began laughing. Súndavar saw nothing funny.

With a long spell, a spell longer than Súndavar had ever heard or could hope to remember, Galbatorix released the swords from their bondage. "Choose one," he said. "Any sword. It shall be yours."

This confused Súndavar even more.

"Why?"

"Just choose!" the King barked. "I get little joy in this world, and would prefer it if you do as you're told and not spoil my good mood!"

Súndavar nodded in silence and began inspecting the swords. His eyes fixed on one. Its blade was black, much like Zar'roc's was crimson, and its pummel was wrapped in red leather. A fire coloured gem was inset in the handle, laced with finest silver. He reached out to touch it.

"Her name is Persephone," Galbatorix said. "She was a Ra'zac killer."

Súndavar took the sword from its mount and unsheathed it, admiring its fine quality. "She is the most beautiful thing I've seen," he said quietly. "Finer than Eragon's or Arya's for certain."

"Then she is yours," Galbatorix said. "You are stronger than either and deserve a blade that is such as well."

_Stronger than…whaa?_ Súndavar glanced at the king and frowned. "If you are trying to sway me by giving me pretty things and compliments, it shan't work. My loyalty is to Rune and to Alagäesia. Only dogs can be won with treats."

The King frowned slightly. "You say your loyalty is to my daughter?"

"Oh, don't go all fatherly on her now! You have no right to forbid anything between us!"

"I don't mean to," the King said, shaking his head. "All I was thinking was…well, your loyalty is hers. But is hers to you?"

"Of course! She's the best friend I'll ever have and I love her. And she loves me. I know she does." Súndavar was backing steadily away from the king until he hit the wall, rattling many a sword in its sheath.

"Yet…somehow it is Eragon that manages to get inside her."

Súndavar clutched Persephone to his chest and ran from the room. "She loves me!" he stood in the doorway. "If you have never had such a feeling, it's no wonder you don't know anything about it!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar was out of breath by the time he reached the Hold. He slammed the door behind him, still clutching Persephone with a death-grip. Rune and Eragon jumped away from one another.

Súndavar glanced up at them, and realized they had been kissing.

_He was right!_

Súndavar swore angrily and ran into his room, slamming that door as well. He collapsed on the bed, confused and frightened and angry.

Why had the King singled him out so? Why had he given him a sword? Why did he pick at the nagging doubts of Rune's love that Súndavar already felt within himself? How did he know? How?

Súndavar felt himself beginning to cry. He touched the sword, ran his fingers down the broad side.

"Persephone," he said. "Persephone."

Súndavar had never been religious, but he thought he remembered the name from somewhere. It took him a moment, but when it came, it hit him full on.

Persephone was the Goddess of Revenge.

He threw the sword away from him. "No! You can't sway me! Giving me a pretty sword with a cursed name and telling me foolish things! You can't!"

His knees hit the floor, and he began to shake. He heard Rune's small fists pound on his door, before opening it.

"Get out!" he cried, shivering and moaning on the floor.

Rune touched his face. "Súndavar, you're burning up. You've gone and gotten a fever."

Her words were echoing in Súndavar's ears, sounding far, far away. A fever? What was that? And who was Súndavar? Burning? What did that mean?

The last thing he remembered before he passed out was that he wanted Revenge.

But he couldn't remember why.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Those should have broken his ribs."

Shruikan was chewing on a haunch of some type. The dragon's eyes flickered at the King's words.

"He thinks he is a Shade," the man continued. "But he is not. Nor is he human."

_He was never human._

Galbatorix hit the wall with his fist angrily. "He cannot realize how powerful he can become!" he cried. "If he realizes this, I am lost."

Shruikan made sure to note this. He would tell Súndavar later.

"You should have seen him heal the other Rider. Strength. It made him stronger."

_As it makes you stronger, and Murtagh stronger, and anyone who knows Magic's essence, _Shruikan pointed out.

"But we were taught! It did not come to us as a natural thing!" Galbatorix was shaking. This was the most agitated Shurikan had ever seen him.

_What do you plan to do?_

Galbatorix's eyes flashed and he attacked the dragon's mind in his own anger. "I know how fond you have become of them, dragon!" he crowed. "If I didn't need you, you would be the first to die!"

Shruikan recoiled and curled into a ball to protect himself as the King continued to attack his mind.

"You are worthless, Dragon. She has turned you, the little snake that she is. You have fallen for her snare."

_What you have done is wrong._

"We have done it! You forget who flew, who burned hatchlings to a crisp! _You_, Dragon. You are a murderer as much as I!"

Shruikan shivered as the King's onslaught continued.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune pressed Súndavar between she and Eragon's bodies tightly as the boy shivered and quaked, fighting invisible enemies that plagued his sleep. His body was very warm against hers.

Eragon was grumbling. "I don't understand why I'm laying in bed with the two of you. He is sweaty, and this is disgusting."

"You were sweaty," Rune pointed out. "Yet I'm still with child."

Eragon rolled his eyes and laid still.

"I need your help to keep him still. You don't expect me to sit on him, do you?"

"Tie him to the bed."

"Eragon!"

The Rider sighed and sat up. "I'm sorry. I just…people have fevers all the time. I'm sure we _all_ had fevers half the time we were with the Varden, from working so hard. Yet you didn't hold us and touch our faces and baby us. Why now?"

"Do you see where we are? We all need a little extra help. Besides." She touched Súndavar's face again. "Don't you think it seems strange, coming down with something so suddenly?"

"I wouldn't know. He is Súndavar, after all."

Rune pursed her lips. "Stay with him, and keep him still," she said. "I'm going to get Ieran."

"What if he wakes up, only to find me cuddling with him?" Eragon cried. "Do you realize how utterly _disturbing_ that would be? I doubt either of us would ever recover from it!"

Rune smacked him in the head and ran from the room as quickly as she could.

As soon as she shut the door, Eragon wrapped Súndavar tightly in a blanket, and secured him with some rope. He looked rather like a caterpillar.

"Sorry," he said. "You've become like a brother to me, but I don't love you that much."


	15. Speaking In Riddles

"_Lexi?"_

_The room was empty. In fact, it could no longer have been called a room. The walls had crumbled, the floor was wrecked. It was a pile of shattered stones under an endless sky. Súndavar turned over a few stone, feeling tears come to his eyes._

"_Lexi! Where are you?"_

_His heart pounded as he kicked at the stones, cursing anything he could think of. Galbatorix! This was his fault. The king's fault. All his…_

_Súndavar finally collapsed onto the stones, sobbing._

"_Tears? Come now. Rider's don't cry."_

_Súndavar looked up into the shadowy face of the dark aura of the king. He threw himself at the man in anger. "You took her away from me!" he roared._

_He passed harmlessly through the aura, landing on the other side and scraping his hands on the rocks. They stung, and began to bleed._

"_I hate you!" he screamed. "Why? Why are you here? What do you want from me?"_

_The King looked around the disaster scene around him. "Your little memory girl is gone, then?"_

"_You stole her from me!" Súndavar seethed._

"_Nay," the aura said, shaking its head. "You have done that yourself."_

"_I love her! You invaded me and forced her away!"_

"_It's a pity she's gone," it said, ignoring his ranting. "She was a rather pretty little thing, wasn't she?" He shrugged. "Ah, well. I suppose you'll have more time to work on rescuing Rune now, won't you?"_

_A warning flared in Súndavar's mind. "R…rescuing?"_

"_But of course."_

"_What would Rune need rescuing from? Other than you, that is?"_

_The aura laughed a short, quick laugh. "Súndavar, has Rune ever talked to you, about the glade where her child began?"_

_Súndavar frowned. "I'd prefer not to hear about it. Eragon got what should have been mine."_

"_I don't debate that. You seem much more devoted to her than he is. More…" the King smiled. "…willing."_

"_Willing?"_

"_To fight. To die. To love. You seem willing to give everything you have, for the love of her. Yet she brushes you away, because of…"_

"…_Eragon…" Súndavar said, hesitantly. This was making his heart pound, his mind ring. He didn't want to think like this – it wasn't Eragon's fault. He loved Eragon, like the brother he had never had. Galbatorix was trying to turn them against one another._

_What scared Súndavar is that he felt it working, in the corner of his heart. Terrified, he backed away, before losing his balance. He teetered on the edge of Oblivion._

_The King grabbed his hand. He pulled him back._

"_Careful, little Shadow," he said. "We wouldn't want to lose you."_

_Súndavar glanced downwards, and shivered._

"_You were right, you know," he whispered. "About Eragon and Rune? They were kissing again. She…she said…" he felt himself tearing up._

_The King wrapped his arms quietly around the boy, but Súndavar pulled away and struck at him. His fist passed uselessly through._

"_Don't dare try to at sympathetic and fatherly!" he fumed. "Don't touch me. Don't even try to comfort me. I hate you!"_

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"Caitlin, I'm beginning to worry about him."

Rune sat next to Súndavar's bed, her hands in her lap. Caitlin patted her shoulder comfortingly. "It's just a fever. He'll be fine."

Rune shook her head. "It isn't just a fever," she said.

"What makes you think that?" Caitlin asked. She touched Rune's shoulder again, before squeezing your hand. "Súndavar _will_ be alright, Rune. He is strong."

"But is he strong enough to resist an attack on his body from his mind?"

Caitlin frowned. "You are tired," she said. "Come on. Being cooped in a room with a feverish sweetheart is not good for anybody. The worrying alone will drive you insane."

Rune sighed and nodded, and the two girls left the room. Ieran glanced up from sharpening his rikan's spikes for the nth time that day and gave the two of them a little salute.

"Will you watch him?" Caitlin asked.

Ieran nodded. "It won't be the first time," he said. "Don't worry about him, Rune."

Rune just made a little whimpering noise and let Caitlin lead her out of the room.

The two girls came to a rest in the library. Rune sank into a chair with a sigh of relief, hand on her stomach.

The two girls noticed David hunching over a table.

"David?"

The boy glanced over his shoulder, and snapped shut whatever he was looking at. He turned around. "Hello Caitlin," he said. After chewing his lip for a moment, he muttered, "Hello Rune."

Rune smiled at him, enjoying the fact that he hadn't lumped her in with Súndavar and therefore hated her. "Hello yourself, David," she said cheerily. "What are you reading?"

David blushed and held up the book. He was holding it upside-down.

Rune frowned. "Oh. Uhm…I haven't read that one."

David sighed. "In truth, nor have I." he turned a shade of crimson that Caitlin found adorable. "I cannot exactly…I mean…I'm not able to…I've never been taught, really, how to…"

Rune got up out of her seat and moved across the room to David's table. She pulled out a chair for Caitlin, before sitting down herself. "Surely your mother taught you?"

David shook his head. "Freya didn't do that sort of thing. She died, besides. When I was little."

Rune cocked her head. The name Freya sounded a bit familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"I'm very sorry."

"Don't be. Slaves die. It's just what they do."

"I'm still sorry." The girl paused. "Would you like us to teach you to read, David?"

David blinked, looking hesitant.

"Súndavar can read."

That sealed it.

"Yes. Teach me."

Rune smiled and opened the book. Then a look of surprise crossed her face. "Oof!" she gasped, her hand flying to her stomach. Then she laughed and grabbed Caitlin's hand. "Feel!" she cried, grinning like an idiot.

The other girl placed her hands on Rune's stomach, frowning lightly. Then she too grinned.

"It's kicking!"

David touched Rune's shoulder hesitantly, then pulled away, biting his lip and blushing. Rune nodded and placed his hand on her as well. He smiled a little as he felt the child kick inside.

Caitlin placed her hand over his, and the two smiled.

Rune gave another gasp, clutching her other side. "Oww!"

Caitlin moved her hand. "Rune…"

David was grinning. Rune met his eyes and laughed.

"I'm being kicked in two places at once," she giggled.

They all turned as the door opened. Eragon strode in. Rune jumped up, swayed on her feet, and shot into his arms. "Eragon!" she crowed. "We've got twins!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Shay kissed Vanir's lips firmly, wrapping her arms around his neck. The elf kissed back. When Shay pulled away for air, she was laughing. Vanir swung her around, keeping her body heat close to him.

"You're amazing, Vanir," Shay laughed. She placed her hands flat on his chest, tapered fingers resting against him gently. He kissed her again, tasting sweet.

"And you are beautiful."

Shay's hands moved down, until they met his own. Their fingers entwined.

"I want to today," she said, biting her tongue coyly and looking up hopefully with wide eyes at him. "Can't it be today, Vanir?"

He laughed. "My sweet, you haven't a dress. Or a cake or flowers or –"

"But I don't need those things," she said. "Can't we just do it now? Right here? We'll say our vows and be married and it won't matter if I don't have a dress because we'll go back to our room and I won't wear anything anyways because I won't have to and it won't even be shameful because we'll be one." She kissed his neck softly. "Please?"

He laughed and moved his head, her kisses tickling him. "Shay, stop. It's a wedding. It should be done the right way."

"My father used to say that," she giggled. "He also said I'd have to be a maiden until my wedding night." She squeezed his hands. "Come on, Vanir, let's do it now. Right here, this garden."

Vanir bit his lip, then sighed and nodded. "Alright. Right here."

Shay smiled. "I, Shay Everwood take you, Vanir of House Haldthin to be my husband forevermore in the light of Hope. Into eternity, as long as we live in the light together, we shall be as one. I love you."

Vanir chewed his lip. "And I, Vanir of House Haldthin, take you, Shay Everwood, to be my wife. If there are holy things in the world, I pray they stand witness to watch us now. Into eternity, until the stars burn out and the cornerstones of the world fall, our love will burn like memory's flame. I love you."

"Seal it with a kiss," Shay said.

Vanir did.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Saphira licked Slate's nose lovingly as he gazed at their eggs.

_They are the future, _he told her. _They will be mighty. _He met his mate's eyes and muzzled her. _Like their mother is mighty._

Matrix snorted smoke at the eggs, thinking of Glaedr. She pushed the thoughts away and stretched, as if she had just woken up.

Saphira glanced at her. _Matrix?_

_Aye, little one?_

_You told us once, that you had an egg, but it didn't hatch._

Matrix frowned slightly and moved towards them. _Your eggs are healthy, Saphira. You needn't fear._

_That is not what I mean._

Saphira nudged one of the eggs over to Matrix, who nuzzled it fondly.

_What I mean, Great One, is…you knew how to bind our eggs. But if your own egg did not hatch, how would you know such?_

Matrix's eyes narrowed slightly. Saphira ducked her head.

_I apologize. I don't mean to be nosy._

The old dragon sighed and shook her head. _Saphira, in time all will become clear to you. For now, I leave you in darkness. _She nudged the egg back into the pile of straw. _My wings ache from being cooped in this Hold. I cannot deny them any longer._

_Galbatorix will see you._

Matrix laughed a dragon laugh, blowing flame to the clouds. _Let him see! _she cried, beating her wings. _He cannot harm me. You forget – even the strongest human is no match for a dragon true!_

With those words, she beat her wings and took to the skies.

Slate glanced at Saphira, then at the sky where Matrix had disappeared.

_She is foolish._

Saphira grinned.

_She is magnificent._

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Galbatorix cracked his knuckles, frowning at Eragon. "It would seem Shadow is unable to make it," he said. He did not sound surprised. In fact, Eragon detected a hint of smug knowing in the King's stance.

"You made him sick, didn't you?"

The King smiled. "But of course. Shadow doesn't need the lesson I am about to give you."

"You said you were –"

The King cut Eragon off with a swift motion of his hand. "It wouldn't be fair to teach magic without Súndavar present," he said. "Today we will focus on something you lack." Galbatorix paused, brow furrowing deeper. "Strength."

"I've already proved I am strong!" Eragon snapped. "I did what you asked to your slave girl, didn't I?"

The King snorted. "And nearly threw up in the process. Eragon, you have little stomach for cruelty." He waved a hand. "Today will not be nearly as difficult as that. You'll work with Rune. I assure you, she won't be harmed."

Eragon bit the inside of his cheek until it bled. "We're having twins," he said. "Did you know that?"

"Of course. I knew when Rune first got here."

"Why didn't you say something?"

Galbatorix shrugged. "It is clear the two of you do not want my influence on your children," he said. "I prefer not to get involved. At least until they are old enough to chose sides."

"You'll be dead by then."

"We'll see." The King snapped his fingers and Rune was lead in. She wasn't bound, but from the look on her face it was clear that she hadn't come of her own free will. The slave that lead her bowed to Galbatorix, before leaving the room.

"Daughter. Sit."

Rune did as she was told, flicking her hair haughtily in her father's direction. As she passed Eragon, her hand brushed his.

"Alright," Galbatorix said, smiling slightly. "Now that we're all here, it's time to spar."

Eragon frowned.

"Periodically, I'm going to use Rune as a shield. Eragon, you will have to deal with this."

"I'll not harm her, if that's what you mean."

"Your blade will be dulled."

"My blade won't _touch_ her, snake. If you think I'll even _pretend_ to harm her, you're mistaken."

Rune stood up and moved to Eragon's side. She kissed his neck. "Eragon, it's a game. Like a silly dress-up game children play. It's not real." He placed a hand on her stomach, saying nothing. Rune kissed his jaw, standing on tip-toes. "Come now. Do as he says. Sooner than you think his head will be rolling on the floor, and you'll not have to play mind games with him any longer."

Galbatorix snorted at this, before dulling his blade.

Eragon did the same and struck at the king. He fought rigorously, never giving the King a chance to throw in his own strike or slash. The smile never fell from Galbatorix's face.

Before Eragon could blink, Rune was in the way of his blade. He halted, and felt Galbatorix's own knock the wind out of him.

"Pathetic. You lay at my feet bleeding as your lover and fatherless children watch in horror. Your blood mixes with the dirt as they scream."

"I'm sorry," Eragon apologized, wiping salty sweat from his eyes. "I just…I can't."

"Stand up, we'll try it again."

Rune laid a hand on Eragon's shoulder, before glancing at her father. "No. Don't make him."

"I could make him do something less pleasant," Galbatorix snapped. "This is a child's game!"

Eragon shook his head. "I can't even _pretend_, okay? I'm sorry." He sheathed his blade and strode from the room.

"Your Rider lover is useless," Galbatorix told his daughter. "If he cannot touch the woman he loves, how can he kill one whom he hates?"

Rune narrowed her eyes and followed Eragon from the room.

Galbatorix slammed his fist into the wall.

"Useless," he cursed. "The boy is more useless than that oaf Tabor in a footrace!"


	16. Equal and Opposite

Súndavar awoke feeling like he had to throw up. He rolled over, leaning over the edge of the bed, and dry heaved. He hadn't eaten anything in days.

With a dry mouth, he glanced around his room. Everything seemed…sharper. More clear. He narrowed his eyes at something across the room, sitting on his desk. It was Alyss's diary. If he focused on it, he could read the writing on the cover. _Heart Writing_.

But that was silly. It was too far away to read, surely. Súndavar got out of bed and walked over to the book, running his fingers over its cover.

Then Súndavar caught sight of himself in the mirror that stood behind his washstand. He had always been thin – not scrawny, for sure, but lean. The boy in the mirror had defined chest muscles, powerful arms, and a firm, flat stomach. Súndavar frowned. Was this new, or had he simply not noticed it? Had he been growing stronger all this time? Then something made his mouth drop open. The boy in the mirror had green eyes.

He brushed his hair from his face – it was growing long, longer than he had ever had it before – and stepped closer to the mirror. He stared into twin pools of forest colored evergreen.

He blinked. The mirror blinked back. Running his fingers through his hair, Súndavar let out a breath. The red was gone. His hair was once again black as ink, even the roots where it had been coming in. He grinned.

"Sun! You're awake."

He turned, and found himself face to face with Rune. A warm blush rose to his cheeks – he wasn't wearing anything. But she just laughed.

"Get dressed," she told him, keeping her eyes strictly on his face. "There's breakfast in the Hold. And…" she grinned, "I might have a bit of a surprise."

Spinning on her boot heels, the girl left the room. Súndavar breathed a sigh of relief and looked for his clothes. As he dressed, he thought of Rune.

Normally, he wouldn't have minded so much. Rune coming in, that is. But something about the way she looked…he shrugged. He felt stronger than he had in ages, with no trace of lingering fatigue or worry.

His eyes fell on Persephone.

Frowning, the boy picked up the sword. He pulled it from its sheath and stared at the black blade. It was beautiful, really, despite its cursed name. The sword seemed to draw him to it. He sheathed it again and threaded the sheath through his belt.

Rune clapped her hands in girlish glee when he entered the room. She looked beautiful, although her hair was slightly messy and there was a light bruise on her jaw from the previous day's lesson. Sun kissed her forehead and sat down next to her. Eragon was on the other side.

Ieran handed his son a bowl of soup. "You rejoin the living," he said, a slight smile touching his lips.

Súndavar glanced at his father, brushing his hair from his eyes. He nodded. Ieran was staring at his eyes in shock. He said something in a twisting language Súndavar had never heard, before automatically reaching for his rikan.

Rune touched Ieran's hand lightly. "We're eating, friend. I know the three of you are surely warriors, but weapons at the table is something I can't permit. My feminine dignity as both a princess and a woman won't allow it."

Ieran laughed. "And I had doubts you'd make a good mother," he said. "_Non,_ you're right." He took another bite of his soup. "Although there is certainly no table here."

Eragon laughed. "Súndavar, Rune and I have something to tell you."

The Rider glanced at them. They were holding hands.

"We're having twins, Sun," Rune said lightly. "And I want you to be their godfather."

Súndavar blinked his green eyes stupidly.

"You never know what's going to happen," she continued. "If Eragon…if he is unable to care for them – us. Me as well, I suppose. I want you to be the one who helps us."

"He isn't running off on you, is he?" Súndavar asked blankly, in a state of shock. As far as he had been able to tell yet far, Rune hadn't wanted him to interfere with anything that had to do with her children. They were _hers_.

Eragon choked on his soup. How you could choke on soup, Súndavar didn't know.

"No!" he cried angrily. "We're saying if I _die_, dimwit!"

Súndavar recoiled. "Fine, don't fly off the bloody handle," he grumbled. "I'd have to think about it. It's a big responsibility."

Eragon snorted. "A responsibility we all hope _doesn't_ fall onto your incompetent shoulders. But if by chance it _does_ – "

Ieran whipped a hand over Eragon's mouth, and one over Súndavar's. "Both of you, _stop_," he growled, balancing his soup bowl in his lap. "Rune, Súndavar accepts. If Eragon dies, he'll serve as father. Eragon, don't die."

With that the Shade released his hands. Both boys glared at him. Ieran returned to eating, noncommittal.

"I swear," he grumbled. "The teen hormones in this place."

"Oh, well you were no better!" Súndavar found himself snorting. "Alyss became your lover at fourteen!"

Ieran had gone still. He didn't look up. "Where did you hear that name?" he asked, voice softer than Súndavar had ever heard it.

Súndavar wasn't sure how to answer. "I…I…"

Ieran stood up. He set his soup on the ground, and strode from the room.

The three watched in confusion, all bickering forgotten.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

The tears flowed freely down Ieran's face as he sat on the wall. The daisy heads he held in his palm looked tiny. He tightened his fist around them, before letting the wind carry them away.

"I thought you said that you'd come find me," Ieran whispered to the wind. "I thought you said you'd be home by now."

The wind held no response. The Shade felt the hot tears on his cheeks slide silently down. He brushed them away, taking out his rikan.

"I can't do this alone," he said. "I just…I miss you. I've always missed you."

He sharpened one of the spikes. It was surely as sharp as it would get, but the motion reminded him…of something. Something comforting. He just couldn't remember what.

"Your son is grown now," he said. "He looks like you." Ieran tried to push the sorrow from his voice.

"And…and Freya's son. He's grown too. Both of them…so strong." Ieran smiled. "They still hate one another. I think they always shall."

He was no longer crying. The Shade, lost in his memories, continued talking.

"I suppose you have other children now. I suppose we both knew our love couldn't go on forever. We were children. Are you married? Happy?"

"I hope, wherever you are, happiness has found you. I hope you are treated well."

"Alyss. I love you. I will always love you."

oooooooooooooooooooo

_I will always love you_.

The woman at the window stopped chopping carrots. Her eyes flew to the horizon, where the wide fields of her husband's farm stretched. Her elegant brow furrowed slightly.

"Mummy!"

The woman turned and a grin split her face. Her daughter held a thick bouquet of dandelions. She embraced the child.

"Kerstin, they're beautiful!"

"Daddy said they're weeds."

"_Non_," the woman laughed. "Daddy would say the finest rose was a weed if it was sown in his fields."

Kerstin laughed, and ran off. The woman returned to the window, placing the dandelions in a vase.

A gust of wind blew her long hair back, and for a moment, Alyss felt an age-old love stir in her. In the wind, floated daisy blossoms.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"A is for…" David frowned. "A…"

"Come now. What's this one?" Caitlin asked, pointing at the letter. The boy beside her frowned deeper. "R. rrrrrrr. Ar."

"Right, now this?"

"O?"

"Keep going. A is for…"

"Arro…w. Arrow."

"Spell it."

"A-R-R-O-W."

Rune grinned and clapped. "You did it!"

David turned pink as the pregnant girl threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"You'll be reading classics in no time!" she giggled.

David glanced at Caitlin. The girl was smiling, but made no move to hug him, as he friend had. He felt a tiny bit of disappointment in the corner of his mind, then pushed it away.

"I'd say you've had enough for today," Rune said. "I've got to be to lessons. The King's lessons, that is."

Caitlin shivered at the thought of the King's lessons. David caught it.

"Cait? Something….wrong?"

The girl forced a smile. "No."

Rune bit her lip, hard. "I…I really have to go," she said nervously, darting away as fast as she could.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"Magic's essence is something that is not easily mastered. However, when you have mastered such, its strength will never fade from your view." The King was pacing regally, his head held high. "With each spell, you have a potential of becoming stronger."

The Riders stood at attention.

Galbatorix faced them. "Before you can master Magic's essence, you must understand it," he said. "You must understand where the power you shall be harnessing comes from, and why it comes to be so. And that understanding begins with, no magic, but science."

The Riders frowned.

Galbatorix stopped in front of Súndavar. He reached out a hand, grasping the boy's jaw. Súndavar struggled, and his hair fell from his eyes.

The King grinned. "It would seem you have returned to normal, little Rider-Shade. Your eyes are as evergreen as they ever were."

Rune gasped lightly from her chair.

Súndavar batted the King away. "No thanks to you!" he growled.

The King laughed. "Actually, it is quite thanks to me. If I hadn't caused you to become sick, your body wouldn't have worked to terribly hard to dispel anything foreign from it." Galbatorix whirled, sending a blast of air into Súndavar that should have knocked him over.

It blew his hair back, and the boy staggered, but stayed on his feet.

"See? You are quite changed. You needn't thank me."

With that the King returned to his lesson. "Science," he said. "No, don't give me that look. Magic is science, in a way. It has laws, certainly. And some laws apply to both – magic and science as well. The one I am teaching you today is one such."

The King made a motion with his hand. "Come. This lesson is to be taught in the gardens."

Confused, the Riders and Rune followed.

When they had reached Galbatorix's chosen spot, Súndavar realized what he was going to do.

"Take off your tunics," the King ordered, "and boots. Swim to those platforms."

The pond was wide, but not too deep, and in the center floated two platforms, side by side. Súndavar dove in, and the boys raced to them. Eragon won.

Rune stifled laugher – they were little more than boys, at heart. Strong, wonderful, silly boys. She loved them.

"Stand up," the King called. The platforms wobbled beneath their feet, but both finally managed to stand on them without falling.

"Eragon," Galbatorix said, "knock Súndavar into the water. With magic."

Eragon laughed at the look on Súndavar's face. "Thrysta!" he called, sending the other boy off his platform. Before he knew what was happening, his own platform shifted beneath him, and he fell as well.

"Shadow!" he barked at Súndavar when he surfaced. "You can't throw me off!"

But Súndavar was on the other side. He shrugged. "I didn't touch you," he said, climbing back onto his platform and sitting on it with legs crossed.

"Ai!" the King cried. "That is what I'm talking about! Eragon felt the reaction of his spell. A reaction that was equal and opposite to the original spell."

"But that's insane!"

"No, it is _science._ It is how you can jump, how you can swim, how you can push against anything and expect it to move. Another example. Hold hands."

Súndavar and Eragon looked at him in disbelief.

"I mean for you to push against one another, idiots!"

The Riders clasped hands obediently, palms flat against the others' and fingers intertwined.

"Súndavar, push Eragon away from you."

Súndavar pushed. Both platforms moved, and the Riders fell into the water again, this time on top of one another. They rose sputtering. Súndavar was groaning – Eragon's knee had made contact between his legs.

"See!" The King grinned. "Súndavar pushed against Eragon, yet Súndavar himself moved. This is the reaction I speak of. It works as such in magic as much as force."

Again, they climbed onto their platforms. Súndavar shook the water from his hair, spraying it this way and that like a shaking dog. Eragon shielded himself, laughing.

"Now. Unlike the force the pushed Súndavar from Eragon, the opposite reaction in _magic_ can be harnessed, and used to refuel one's own strength or increase the spell. If it is used to increase the spell, the reaction is _larger_. If this is used as well, it is larger still. In this way, there is no limit to what you can do."

Súndavar and Eragon glanced at one another, mouths open.

"Try to see if you can detect this force," Galbatorix instructed. "By tomorrow, I want both of you to be able to double up a spell."

"How?"

"It cannot be taught. Now that you know there is power to be harnessed, I expect you will find yourself able to do so. Practice is all it takes." The King seemed to have tired of the boys, and he walked away.

They all sat in silence for a while. Then Eragon let out a whoop, tackling Súndavar and sending them both into the water. They splashed their way back to the shore, testing each other's strength as they went. Súndavar dunked Eragon below the water, holding him down as long as he could, before Eragon flipped the other boy over and forced him under. Neither noticed Rune sneak off as the two Riders laughed and joked.

By dusk, they were brothers.


	17. A Subtle Betrayal

Eragon stared at the table thoughtfully. It was too heavy to lift, that was certain. Across the long room, Súndavar had succeeded in doubling up his spell. An armoire was flying merrily through the air, the clothes inside it looking like ghosts as they fluttered to the floor.

"Come, Eragon!" he cried. "It's easier than you'd think!"

The boy lost interest in the furniture, and it crashed to the floor. He vaulted over it with one arm and ran to Eragon's side. His eyes were bright as he surveyed the room, looking for something else to wreck.

The room the Riders had found to practice in was old and unused. Furniture that obviously was out of style or no longer needed was strewn haphazardly about, taking up only about half of the space. Broken mirrors hung from the walls, torn tapestries laid about like fallen flags, and chairs and half disassembled banquet tables were coated with filmy dust. Wide windows let in sunlight, and the room was bright as day.

"Suppose we could find something to use in here?" Eragon asked, changing the subject from his incompetence at doubling spells.

Súndavar shrugged and kicked at a ripped book. "Dunno," he said. The younger boy dashed off again, this time to crawl through a maze of fabrics, and broken furniture, all laying on a wide mirror. He emerged near the top, inside of a chest with no bottom. He had found a broken chair leg, and was sporting it like a telescope. "Avast!" he cried, looking out the window and lowering the hunk of wood. "Shay and Vanir are going at it in the gardens! Er…arr!"

Eragon laughed at both the message and Súndavar's pathetic seaman imitation, moving to the window. Sure enough, the couple were twisted together under a gazebo.

"You'd think slaves would see them," he commented, turning away discreetly to give the two their privacy.

Súndavar's eyes remained fixed on the sight.

"Stop staring!" Eragon barked at him. "They're married now, it's perfectly fine. Besides, they don't get a honeymoon – they wouldn't leave the castle without us."

Súndavar glanced at Eragon, then jumped from his furniture fortress. He landed crouched, like a cat, next to Eragon. Standing up, he shook out his hair.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Of course."

"I mean…" Súndavar blushed – a habit, he was finding, was happening to him increasingly often – "An …uncomfortable question."

"Go on."

"Do you find Shay beautiful?"

The questions caught Eragon off guard. He had expected something about Rune, or…_something_. Not about Shay. But he thought about it for a moment before answering.

"I am not attracted to her romantically," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But she is beautiful. In a tough, angry sort of way." He laughed a little. "She is beautiful like a snake is beautiful, and a lion is beautiful."

Súndavar nodded slightly, then flashed a mischeivious grin. "I'm telling Vanir!" he crowed, sounding like kid about to tattle. He darted away through the furniture.

Eragon yelped and chased after him. Súndavar ducked into the furniture fortress, scrambling upwards. Eragon climbed after him, less quickly. The two were laughing.

Finally, Eragon managed to pin his friend against the floor. He sat on him, tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard. "Swear you'll say nothing!" he demanded.

Súndavar stubbornly shook his head, mouth a tight grin.

"Swear it!"

"Not a chance, Ar-get-lam." With that, Súndavar hooked a leg against Eragon's shoulder, flipping so _he_ was sitting on top. Eragon struggled and laughed. "Swear it, curse you!"

"Double up a spell and I'll swear," Súndavar said, grinning from ear to ear.

Eragon pushed him off gruffly, forcing his face against the ground and twisting his arm backwards. Súndavar didn't stop grinning. Instead, he elbowed Eragon in the chest, and the other boy let go.

"Who taught you to play-fight?" Súndavar asked, shaking out his twisted arm.

"Roran."

"Ah. Cousins, you and he, right?" Súndavar yawned. "I don't have any cousins, I don't think. I've got a half brother, I guess."

"Freoh." Eragon made a teasing _awww_ face. "Shadow and Death. _How adorable._" His voice was high and joking

Súndavar chuckled. "Yeah, and Ieran means _demon_, or something of the type. So I suppose we're all a bit cursed. Whereas you have the best name in history."

"I suppose. Although it's a lot to live up to."

"You can do it," Súndavar said. "I know you can." Again, he blushed, perhaps for revealing that he had faith in the other boy, or perhaps for reasons of his own. Whatever the case, Eragon felt something in his heart stir as he saw Súndavar blushing. Poor kid. He ruffled his black hair, to break the uncomfortable moment, and Súndavar's face cleared. He batted Eragon's hand away.

"We'll be great Riders someday," Súndavar said proudly. "Our dragons will be as large as Matrix, and just as wise. They'll still be mates, of course, and we will lead the Riders to rebirth."

Eragon frowned. "Súndavar…I do not think we shall lead anything. Oromis is our Master."

Súndavar snorted. "He is old and weak," he said. "We shall be strong. With the training Galbatorix is giving us, none could stand in our way."

"You sound as if you mean to be Kings."

"No!" Súndavar barked, irritated. "The first Eragon was a leader, was he not? And so shall we be."

Eragon looked down, feeling conflicted. Súndavar had never talked about the future to him, never revealed any sort of hopes or dreams other than living long enough to get in Rune and kill Galbatorix. They really had no plans for _after_ the King had fallen.

And the talk of leadership…it worried him, just a bit in the corner of his heart. Oromis was their leader, surely. Until the old Rider died or passed the responsibility to another, he would continue as such.

"I guess." The Rider sighed. "I better start practicing again."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"Father?"

Galbatorix didn't rise from his desk. "Have I earned that title? Father." He shrugged slightly, and Rune began to realize just how old he was.

"You have not earned it," she said. "But it is what you are. As you will be Grandfather. Until you are dead."

Galbatorix gave a forced laugh. "Will I? You are so sure of your children's health?"

Rune stepped away a little, hand on her stomach. "I would know," she said. "If something was wrong. I would."

The King finally turned to face her. His eyes were shallow. His flesh seemed to sag. In front of the Riders, he was a formidable opponent. Now, he looked simply like an old man dressed in garb that looked silly on his frail frame. His hands shook.

"You are unwell."

The King shook his head, and he hardened again. Rune caught sight of the fairth, and realized what it was that made him melt so. She moved to his side, and picked it up.

"She is beautiful."

"She was."

Rune stroked the image of her mother with a gentle finger. "If I drop this, would you be mad?" she asked.

"I could make another," the king said.

"No, you couldn't. She is dead, and you cannot lie in fairths." Rune set the little piece back on the desk. "I came for a reason, your Highness."

"Oh?"

"You have two slaves, young ones. I wish for them to be transferred to me."

"Getting comfortable, then?"

Rune tightened her mouth quietly. "If I had not run, I would have plenty of slaves by now. You would be priming me to be your heir. You are very old."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I would have married you off to the King of Surda, to bind him to me, as I had plans to, and began training Murtagh as an heir. Whatever the case, you ran." He sighed, and waved a hand. "The slaves are yours," he said.

"Really? Just like that?"

"They are but children," the King sighed. "I am not as evil as you perhaps think me. I simply cannot be bothered with caring for each slave's needs. I am far too busy."

"You do nothing but train Eragon and Súndavar," Rune snorted. "You cannot be bothered with slaves because you do not wish to be. Thank you for their freedom, _father_," she said, and turned away. When she heard the fairth of her mother shatter on the ground angrily, she began to run.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Matrix felt the ache in her wings with a slow, dragon smile. It felt good, stretching her wings so. She had not flown like this since her dream.

Ah, her dream. Matrix had almost forgotten the stirrings, stirrings deep in her blood. They had spoken to her of dragons, draclings. And so Matrix had flown, following the stirrings and knowing nor caring not where she would end. Slate and Saphira, that was where they had lead her.

_I have even begun to think as they do,_ she thought to herself. No longer did she use the _thee's _and _thy's_ of her own time, the eloquent speech of her past. Such had been abandoned for a simpler tongue, one her newfound charges found easy to understand.

For they were her charges. Matrix loved the two draclings as if they had been her own eggs, though for certain they were not.

The air was hard to breathe so high, but Matrix's wings kept beating. The forest below seemed very small, one tree indistinguishable from the next.

_Sweet Glaedr,_ she sighed. _I will find you. Again, we shall flame as one._

She swooped lower, smelling a sweet, familiar, dragony scent in the air. Her wings beat slower, as she hovered above the trees. When she had found a way between them, she landed.

The city had changed much since she had last seen it. Although not a trace of ash remained from Lily's fire, the scent of smoke still lingered ever so slightly in the air. The older trees looked just a bit sickly, whereas the younger looked bright and healthy as any trees ever were.

And beneath all the smells of the forest, there was Glaedr.

His scales glimmered in the sun's last rays, still shining bright. It had been three hundred years since she had seen him, three hundred long years that had wore on her heart with each passing moment.

His eyes flickered with confusion, as if he did not believe what they beheld.

_My mind wanders,_ he said, closing his brilliant eyes and shaking his head.

Matrix came closer, slinking quietly. She licked his snout, unsure of what to say. What words could express the love and relief she felt, just to feel his scales brush hers again?

_Your mind wanders not,_ she whispered. _You taste as sweet now as you ever have._

Glaedr licked her back, unsurely. _Are you real?_ He asked. _Or have I grown so old my mind plays tricks? For certain, the true Matrix is dead._

_Not yet, although I have feared such many times._

Glaedr rubbed her gently, and she breathed a lick of flame over his chest. Matrix's eyes were bright with love.

The stars watched on as the two moved as one beneath the great sky that was the only thing elder than they. A sweet sort of love transpired between them, a love that had not ebbed with the ages.

_We have a son, _Matrix told her mate, tail entwined with his.

_Aye. A murderer._

Matrix hissed angrily. _Never that!_ She cried – for dragon mothers are as protective as human ones, if not more. _Never that. He is good, in his heart. Tainted by dark fay and twisted, but good._

Glaedr rubbed against her again. _Come,_ he bid sadly. _Oromis should know of your presence._

_The elf dislikes me, _Matrix said. _Your pair-bond has always thought me an influence for ill on you._

_I am far too old to be affected by peer-pressure,_ Glaedr laughed. _Even from you._

_Then let us fly. I have little fondness for Oromis, but seeing a face familiar will do me good._

oooooooooooooooooooo

The night in the Hold was spent in a strange sort of cheer. David and Caitlin had joined the usual group, as well as Shay and Vanir – who had been quite absent, of late. Ieran had shown his face, as well – none were quite sure where it was he slept, for he seemed not to – and was, as usual, content with watching the others, adding a comment here and there, and sharpening his single rikan.

Slate and Saphira, too, had joined them, although both seemed a bit agitated. Eragon and Súndavar both knew they were impatient – none had touched their eggs, and therefore they had no chance of hatching.

"How do lessons go?" Ieran asked softly. He had seemed to grow quieter, since Súndavar's outburst about Alyss.

"Well," Eragon answered. His voice sounded unsure.

"Eragon can't double his spells," Súndavar said, a trace of pride in his voice. He himself had no difficulty with this – it was, he realized, how magicking had made him stronger before. He had a natural gift in exploiting the magical reactions, and wasted no chance to rub it in Eragon's face. They were like brothers now, after all, and even the closest of brothers found pleasure in besting the other.

"Mmm."

Rune glanced from one Rider to the other. "I have news," she proclaimed. "It's important."

Eragon glanced at her. "Oh?"

"My father gave me something of importance today."

"A lecture?" Súndavar questioned sarcastically.

Rune grinned. "No. He gave me Caitlin and David. And now I'm setting them free."

Caitlin blinked stupidly for a moment, before giving a little squeak of pleasure. A grin split her face, as she looked from Rune to Súndavar to Eragon and back to Rune. Ieran watched quietly, a small smile on his face as well.

David reacted a bit differently. He turned to Caitlin and kissed her full on the mouth.

Both were still, blinking at each other in shock. David turned pink.

Rune started laughing. "Today is a good day indeed," she giggled. "A very good day."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Morning came sooner than any had hoped. All but Ieran had fallen asleep in the Hold, curled around one another like puppies. Súndavar was sprawled across Eragon's legs, his mouth open and snoring loudly, while Rune curled near. Caitlin has shifted in the night until she was against David's warmth, and the boy was back to back with Vanir. Shay laid atop them all, and Slate and Saphira had wrapped around, with their wings over to create a sort of tent.

In all, it was a sight to pay money for.

Eragon was the first to wake, seeing as he was on the bottom. He kicked Súndavar to free his legs, and the other boy rolled into Rune. She muttered something angrily, disturbing Caitlin, who woke David, who in turn nudged Vanir, who rolled over, knocking Shay from her delicate balance and sending them all toppling over one another.

"Sweet Hope, Eragon!" Súndavar growled, "You don't just kick people like that." His eyes were still bleary with sleep, and his hair stuck up every which way.

Rune ran her fingers through it to straighten it, before sighing. "Súndavar, you smell awful," she said. "You haven't bathed in a while, have you?"

"He always smells that bad," David muttered.

Súndavar spun on him. "Why do you hate me?" he growled. "I never did anything to you! I hated you back, because you hated me, but I never knew _why!_"

He stalked angrily to his room, slamming the door behind him. Rune began to go to him, but Eragon caught her hand and shook his head. She felt a sting in her heart – Eragon probably knew Súndavar better than she did, now. She had drifted from his love, slowly, without realizing it. Still, she didn't pull away from Eragon.

He touched his stomach, smiled sadly, and patted her on the head. "I'll talk to him," he whispered. He shot David a scalding glance. "And you should leave, if you care for your life. Súndavar is volatile at best, and you've insulted him."

Caitlin pulled the boy by the hand from the Hold. He didn't protest.

Eragon moved to Súndavar's door, opening it slowly. He wasn't sure what he would find.

_Eragon, be careful,_ Saphira warned quietly. _Be gentle with him._

She needn't have worried. The room was empty. Súndavar was gone.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar played with the bath water a little, chasing bubbles around with magic. Galbatorix watched him with a careful eye.

"I find it strange you seek refuge in my personal chambers when you find yourself unwelcome among your friends," he murmured to the boy.

Súndavar glanced at him, before ducking underwater. He came up a moment later, his hair streaming water. He shook like a dog, spraying the King, who wiped his face with a handkerchief primly, before answering. "I find it strange that you _let_ me seek refuge in your personal chambers when I find myself unwelcome among my friends," he snorted.

"You are my pupil, no matter what feelings of hatred we may or may not harbor for one another," Galbatorix dismissed. "I have no choice but to allow you in here."

But he did. He could have locked him out, and Súndavar knew it. The King, however evil he might have been, wasn't entirely a bad host. He stood up, getting out of the bath, and was handed a soft robe by the King. He wrapped it around his shoulders. "Thank you, then."

"For the robe, or for allowing you to soak my carpets?"

"Mmm. Both."

Galbatorix nodded. "How has Persephone served you then, Shadow?"

"I would prefer it if you called me Súndavar. I'm not sure I want a nickname, from you."

The King pursed his lips, then nodded obligingly. "You have not answered my question."

"I cannot answer. I haven't sparred since you gave her to me. But she is a fine blade, and I look forward to the first blood she draws."

"Lusty for blood then, little Shur'tugal?"

Súndavar realized what he had said and snapped his mouth shut. Then he shook his head. "Not in so many words. But I tire of being stuck in the castle. I tire of fighting for play. None of this is real, and it matters not. I miss my blade biting real blood, miss real danger and real fear and real…everything. Real passion, too. I miss spending my nights with Rune in my arms, _this close_ to having her."

Galbatorix chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "Does Eragon know you feel this way?"

"I haven't told him," Súndavar said, shaking his head. "He would certainly say it's my duty as a Rider to be content. That or he'd hit me, thinking I've turned to your side."

"And have you?"

Súndavar blinked in stupid surprise. "No," he snapped. "Talking with you does not mean I am on your side. I simply need someone to tell."

Galbatorix pondered this for a moment, then shrugged. "Of course. Your loyalty lies with Rune, who betrayed you for Eragon."

Súndavar snorted. "You aren't very subtle, are you?"

"I see no point in hiding the fact," Galbatorix said with another shrug. "I want you on my side, Súndavar."

It felt kind of good, to be wanted, Súndavar thought. He pushed it away, but this time anger didn't come with it. He didn't snap at the King about his loyalties. Instead he nodded. "I know. But I do love Rune. I would never betray her, no matter what went on between she and Eragon."

"Of course not. I am not asking you to." The King frowned lightly. "Suppose I say I have a solution to the problem or your boredom," he said.

"If you said that, I'd ask what it was."

"Suppose I said it was an errand I needed ran. An errand that wouldn't force you to betray Rune, nor turn your allegiances to me. Just a little errand."

Súndavar pursed his lips. "I'd ask you to be more precise."

"But suppose I couldn't, not until you swore to do it."

Súndavar flicked his hair from his eyes and contemplated. After yelling at David, he was sure it would be good to disappear for a while. Let things cool down. He stared the King in the eye. "Then I swear," he said. "I swear to run your errand, on my word as a Rider."

"Repeat those words, in the Ancient tongue," the King bid, and Súndavar did.

The King smiled. He had a nice smile, Súndavar thought. An honest smile. As if he cared.

"Now, then, Shadow. This is what I want you to do…"


	18. Snakespawn

**Author's Note: Hello all. Mm. I haven't written an author's note in a long time, have I? Well, now I am. Mostly just to say Hello! to everyone, but also to mention that I'm endlessly sorry I haven't updated quicker. I can't wait till summer, when I'll be updating so much more again. :D Of course, by then I'll be writing a different story. So yes. Um. Oh. This chapter is for saphiraemrys, Kayla, whose reviews I always love-love-love because they're so long and detailed. Love!! Hearts (as always), Kittie**

The small, black cloaked figure slipped through the shadows, eyes glittering beneath its cloak. A heart pounded wildly beneath the cloak, but none heard or felt its presence. Invisible as the air, keeping to the darkness, the cloaked form moved silently from one wall to the next.

_Let no one see you,_ its orders were. _Let no one know where you have been these hours._

That was important. If people knew, people would talk. The figure shivered and crouched farther into the darkness that surrounded it. If people talked, word would get back. If that happened, the wearer of the cloak would lose everything.

It slunk from shadow to shadow, searching for its destination. This part of the city was foreign, with its expensive homes and well paved roads. The figure was used to slums, used to areas where people like itself hid in shadows, fearful of the world and what could become of them upon dawn's break. But there were no people here. It tripped over no sleeping bodies seeking refuge under the shadows of homes or in alleyways. Even garbage was scarce.

Then the figure saw its destination. The jailhouse.

The building was as well-kept as the others, prim and proper, with no weeds growing around it. It hardly looked like a jail at all.

The figure abandoned the shadows, moving across the street and standing in front of the door. Instead of knocking, it removed its hood.

Súndavar stepped into the jail, wincing as the door creaked slightly on its hinges. His burning green eyes flickered dangerously. The night guard glanced at him, frowning and getting to his feet.

"It's after hours," he said, "You can't be – "

With a tiny motion of his fingers and a whispered spell, the man flew into the wall and laid still. Súndavar looked haughtily down at him. "King's orders," he said, snatching the keys from the man's belt.

He turned his eyes to the cells. They were empty, save one. He unlocked it, and the man inside looked up. His eyes widened, a word whispered beneath his breath that Súndavar barely caught.

"_Demon_," he hissed. Then, louder, "Get away!"

Súndavar eyed him dangerously. He drew Persephone from its sheath.

"I have a message," he said. "From his Highness."

The man drew against the wall in fear. "I have done nothing wrong," he said. "The King is mistaken. I did nothing! I have committed no wrongs. You must unders—"

His protests were cut short with a spell. Invisible hands wrapped around his throat, crushing it in instants. Súndavar kneeled beside the body. Stoically, he set to work.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Rune awoke screaming. She kicked at the covers on her bed, trying to free herself. She screamed again, this time louder.

Eragon tore open the door, at her side in moments. Ieran watched quietly from the doorway, as the Rider tried to calm her.

_Rune!_ He cried in her mind. _Rune, it's Eragon. You are safe! Hush!_

Rune stopped struggling, tears streaming down her face. "Where's Súndavar?" she sobbed. "Where is he?"

Eragon touched her face, then let a hand rest on his children. "Shhhhhh," he whispered. "He ran off, remember? He's not here."

"He has to stop!" she cried. "He has to! He can't do this. He shouldn't…he can't…he's too good. He's good. I know he is." She turned her haunted green eyes to Eragon. Her voice was a whispered. "He _is_ good, isn't he, Eragon?"

The deep, pleading in her voice reminded Eragon of a dying animal – innocent, terrified. He nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. "He's good. He is."

She nodded sensibly, as if his affirmation had dispelled all her fears. Then she sunk back into a fitful sleep.

Eragon glanced at Ieran. "What was that?"

"A nightmare," Ieran said simply. "She had a nightmare."

Eragon looked doubtful for a moment, before nodding. He left the room, glancing behind him, before heading back to bed.

Ieran stared into Rune's room thoughtfully, before sinking into the shadows, as always.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

It was well past midnight when the cloaked figure slunk back over the castle's wall and into it's twisting hallways. The little box he held – heavier now than when he had first left – weighed on his heart every minute.

The King's room was high in a spire, all alone. He ran up the stairs, stopping before the door. He rapped on it once, hard, before entering. The King's eyes flickered over him.

Súndavar was a mess. Covered in blood, the boy's eyes were shallow, his face pale. Terror and shame rolled off him as he handed Galbatorix the box. "It is done, your Highness," he said, softly, his voice broken.

The King took the box from him, and glanced inside it. "You have done very well," he said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Clean up, and we shall talk."

Súndavar nodded his thanks, retreating to the bath. Galbatorix had warm water ready for him.

He stripped and sunk into it, but he drew no solace from the heated water. It felt as though it was trapping him, scalding him. The bath quickly turned pink, as the blood rinsed from his skin.

"Wash your hair as well," the King said. "You're a dreadful mess."

Normally, Súndavar would have shot something back. But he didn't. Instead, the boy just nodded and dunked under the water.

For a minute, Galbatorix thought he might try to drown himself. The shame was great, the first time. It always wore heavily on the mind, sometimes so heavily it broke even the strongest of men, turning them into blubbering fools only fit for beheading. But Súndavar surfaced, and dried his hair with a towel. His eyes were dark and haunted, still, but the water had refreshed him.

"You have done well," the King said again, handing him a robe. Instead of the one he had worn earlier, this one was black. It was soft and warm, with a red snake dripping venom embroidered on the back. Súndavar wrapped it around himself, staring blankly into the distance. He said nothing.

Galbatorix sat him down on the bed carefully, tucking him in in an almost fatherly way. Súndavar curled into a ball and laid there, unmoving. The King stroked his hair gently.

"I feel dead inside," Súndavar said finally, in a whispery voice with a slight rasp. Tears welled in his eyes, but they didn't fall.

Galbatorix nodded. "That is normal," he said, voice soft.

"I should not have," the boy murmured. "I should not have. How could…I…"

"You are stronger because of it," Galbatorix said. "Embrace the shame, for it is part of your deed. Eventually, it will fade."

"But…but he's dead," Súndavar whispered. "He's dead, and it is my fault."

"He would have died anyway, come morn," The King soothed. "You merely sped up the process. Hanging is a much worse death than death by magic. You did him a favor."

Súndavar glanced at him, eyes desperate for release. "But he was dead," he muttered. "He was dead already, and I had to…"

"Hush. A corpse cannot feel what is done to it."

"But he should have peace!" Súndavar cried, writhing. "He should have had peace!"

"It matters not if you are whole in death or if your limbs are scattered for miles," Galbatorix said gently. "Your resting is the same."

Súndavar began to cry, softly, into his pillow. He shivered wildly, as if all the chill in the world had enveloped his body and was crying to still his heart. "What will you do with it?" he whispered. "With the box?"

Galbatorix glanced at the box, which he had set on his nightstand, and pursed his lips. "I do not know," he admitted. "But I am sure a use will present itself."

The words were soft and gentle, and Súndavar almost felt himself believing them. The feeling of the King's fingers in his hair was comforting, like something a father might do. His eyes closed for a moment, and images flooded his mind. Images of the gore, the blood, the death. The scent of the man's insides returned to him, and he pulled away, vomiting on the floor. Galbatorix touched his forehead, handing him a towel to wipe his mouth.

But the vomiting seemed to have returned Súndavar to his senses. The lost look vanished from his eyes, replaced by sadness and grief and anger. "I should not have," he said. "It was wrong. It is not the Rider's way. What would Rune think?"

"Rune will never know," Galbatorix said. "This is our secret, Shadow. You and I, we aren't so different."

Súndavar said nothing to this.

"Sleep now, Shadow," Galbatorix hushed. "Sleep."

Súndavar did not protest as the sleeping spell fell over him like a comforting blanket.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon could feel the change in his companion when he entered the room. Súndavar was garbed in a black tunic, with a red belt fastened tightly around his waist. His sword hung from the belt, and on the breast of the tunic, a red snake was embroidered. In all, he was a formidable-looking opponent.

Eragon stared at the snake, nervousness tinting his emotions. Súndavar's snake-crest looked disturbingly like Galbatorix's flame-crest.

His clothing was not the only thing that had changed. He stood taller, legs just a little farther apart. He looked confident, sure of himself, ready for anything. Stronger. More powerful.

And then there was that pretty sword. Eragon glanced at it, nervousness growing. The boy had gotten a new sheath for it, made of blood colored leather.

The older Rider took his place next to Súndavar in silence. He glanced at the other boy.

"Where were you?" he asked. "Rune missed you."

Súndavar jumped, as if he hadn't noticed Eragon approaching. "I didn't do anything!" he barked. Then his eyes cleared, and he blinked a few times. "Oh. Mmm."

Eragon raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Still, Súndavar's outburst had him worried.

Galbatorix appeared at the other end of the room, seemingly from no where. Eragon realized he was projecting his image to them. His hands passed through the King's image harmlessly.

"Where are your dragons?" Galbatorix asked.

"…In the Hold," Eragon said, frowning. "With their eggs."

Galbatorix snorted. "Why are they not here?" he questioned. "Fetch them! Today they shall assist your in your training. Why are you not prepared?"

"We have never trained with them before!" Eragon said. "You cannot expect us to read your mind!"

"You cannot expect _me_ to take you along every step of the way like children," Galbatorix snapped. "Meet me by the pool you trained by earlier. I grow bored with you, Shadeslayer."

Súndavar bowed. "We will be there, mi'lord."

_Mi'lord?_ Since when did Súndavar address the king as one would a liege lord?

"See that you do, Snakespawn."

Eragon blinked in surprise. _Snakespawn?_ Where had such a name come from? He knew Galbatorix called Súndavar Shadow from time to time, but Snakespawn?

When the King's image winked out, Eragon turned on his partner. "What did he call you?"

Súndavar shrugged. "It's my new last name, I suppose," he said.

"You're becoming far too cuddly with the King for my taste, Shadow."

"You've become far too cuddly with his daughter for my taste, Eragon. It would seem we both have to live with it."

Eragon frowned. Súndavar seemed so…_different. _Crabbier than usual, more easily annoyed, easily startled. What was wrong with him?

"Where were you last night, Súndavar?" he asked again.

Súndavar's eyes flashed with fear, and he shook his head. "In…in town," he said. "I just needed some…some air. Some freedom."

Understanding flashed across Eragon's face, and he smiled, placing a hand on Súndavar's shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't tell the King."

"I suppose he already knows," Súndavar muttered. "There's not much we do that he doesn't know of."

"Suppose that's why he's named you?"

"Perhaps." Súndavar shrugged. "Eragon, let's just go. Galbatorix will be angry if we keep him waiting."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Caitlin's fingers worked steadily, twisting Rune's hair into a thick braid at her back. Rune was staring at herself in a mirror, batting her eyelashes at herself. She chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"What do you think of Súndavar?" she asked.

Caitlin blinked at her. "I don't know him very well."

"I mean…I mean do you find him pleasing? His form, that is."

Caitlin giggled a little. "I know you do," she said, adding a piece of green ribbon to the strands of the braid. "But yes, I suppose he's very handsome. And he's more apt than David to take his shirt off."

Rune laughed. "I was thinking, perhaps when the children are born, I might want to be his lover."

Caitlin's eyebrows shot up. "What about Eragon?"

"I love Eragon," Rune said. "But I don't think he feels anything for me in a romantic sense."

"And you…"

"He's the father," she said. "Of course I love him. More than…you know."

Caitlin nodded a little bit. "I think Eragon cares for you more than you think."

"We swore to one another we'd not become involved again," Rune dismissed. "Simply because I have broken my half of the vow, does not mean he has to. I haven't even told him."

"Suppose you do?" Caitlin suggested. "Maybe the two of you could be happy. Your children would have…"

"Real parents?" Rune finished. She sighed. "I…I guess, sometimes, I wish that Eragon and I had never…you know. I don't want to marry him, but…" she placed a hand on her stomach, "It would be best for them."

"He'll take care of you, and them, no matter if he loves you like that or not," Caitlin said. "Even if it is only duty that binds him to you, he'll fight the world to keep you safe. And I do believe it's a great more than duty."

Rune shrugged, and the silence settled over them.

"Where is David?" Rune asked. "I have not seen him since Súndavar…ran off."

"He's in town," Caitlin murmured sadly. "He's trying to find a horse, or something. So we can leave."

Rune's face changed. "Oh." She gave a forced smile. "Well, you _are_ free. If you want to leave, then there's nothing to stop you."

"Nothing but my heart. I do not wish to leave." Caitlin blushed. "I know it sounds silly – why would I stay here? But…but this is home, despite all the evil here. And…and there are friends."

Rune nodded. Then she sighed, and her face brightened. "Come on," she said. "Enough gloom. I've got a month and a half to prepare the babies' room, so we had better get started."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon growled in pain as the flat of Persephone cracked one of his ribs. Slate flew out of the way of Saphira's flame, twisting and spiraling. Súndavar's legs ached slightly from the tight bindings that held him in the saddle. He loosened them, swinging Persephone again. This time the blade hit Saphira's tail, sending blood spraying into the air.

The dragons roared, flying at Slate and flaming. The fire passed uselessly over Slate's scales, singeing Súndavar's skin. He let the pain of the wounds fade, before attacking.

_Don't kill one another, Snakespawn,_ Galbatorix said in his mind. _This is a game. I'll make you dull your blade if –_

He was cut off as Eragon sunk his blade into Súndavar's shoulder. The boy screamed in agony, blood running down his arm. Fire ignited in his eyes, and he brought Persephone up to parry the next attack.

_Slate, get Saphira's underbelly!_ he cried. _Take me out of Eragon's range!_

Slate spiraled, scratching at Saphira's stomach and scoring lines of blood. She shrieked, although they were only surface wounds. Slate would never harm Saphira, even in an exercise.

The rules said Súndavar was not allowed to heal himself. His shoulder burned as though fire was in it, screaming from his very soul. He tried to push the pain away, as he had done with the burns, but found he couldn't. Blackness threatened to overwhelm him, making him dizzy. His head rushed.

Slate swerved unexpectedly, and Súndavar screamed. He had loosened his bindings. There was no longer anything holding him into the saddle. He tumbled from Slate's back.

He heard Slate's cry. _Shadow!_

But it wasn't Slate who caught his fall. Saphira's claws wrapped around his chest. She dove to the ground, dropping him in the soft grass, before landing. Eragon leapt from her back and fell at Súndavar's side.

"_Weis hiell_," he murmured, feeling his strength drain as Súndavar's wound healed. He reached to the reactive spell, and found he was able to tap into a tiny bit of its strength. Súndavar groaned, pushing himself to sit up.

Slate landed next to Saphira, watching silently.

The boy shook out his hair. "We are lucky we are the only Riders," he told Eragon. "For I do not look forward to such a battle where wounds are fatal."

Eragon helped Súndavar to his feet, then winced, his hand flying to his chest. It came away red.

"Hope, I've hurt you!" Súndavar cried. With a whispered word, he healed Eragon. Strenth surged into him again, and he sighed with relief.

Galbatorix was watching thoughtfully. "It would seem you both are hopeless at fighting on dragonback," he said. "You are clumsy, apt to fall, too stiff, and hesitant to hurt the other dragon."

"Then it is very lucky for us you are old, just as stiff, and haven't ridden Shruikan in years," Súndavar snorted.

The King didn't chastise him. In fact, he seemed almost pleased at the insult. Then he turned to the dragons.

"And you," he said. "Saphira, you need to spread your wings more. You can't get proper lift unless you catch the most air that is possible. Slate, I expect your claws to be sharpened the next time we speak. You haven't been caring for them properly."

_I…_Slate began indignantly. Saphira flicked him with her tail, and he fell silent. For all purposes, she was still more mature than he, and often treated him like a child, despite the fact they were mates.

"Go now," the King dismissed. "Back to the Hold from whence you came. I have no further to teach you today."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune stretched, standing on tiptoes, to hang the white curtains. Her balance wavered.

"Rune!" Eragon caught her, keeping her from losing her balance. "What are you doing?" he questioned. "Standing on chairs isn't safe."

She blinked at him, then snorted. "I always used to stand on chairs," she grumbled. She handed him the curtain. "You do it."

Eragon stared at it. "What are you trying to do, anyways?" he asked.

"I'm trying to hang up the curtains," she said sensibly. "But I can't reach."

Eragon sighed, and used magic to hang the curtain. "Why, though?" he asked. "This room isn't used."

"It will be. It's a nursery."

Eragon nodded, then shrugged. "Okay, whatever you say," he said lightly. "Don't you think they could just sleep in your room? Or…well, _our_ room?"

Rune frowned. "No."

"Okay."

The silence that ensued was awkward.

"Eragon, is something wrong?"

Eragon shook his head. "Súndavar was at lessons today," he said. "But he seemed…different. Strange."

"How so?"

"He was wearing a new tunic, for one thing. Black, and red, with a snake embroidered on it."

"So? Perhaps he found the things in the castle."

"Perhaps. But Galbatorix was calling him Snakespawn. Like the crest. And he was very jumpy."

Rune frowned. "Mmm."

Eragon shrugged. "I'm worried about him, that's all. If Galbatorix were to turn any of us…"

Rune wanted to scream at him that that was insane. Súndavar would never turn sides. But…she didn't. "Eragon?"

"Yes?"

"I had a nightmare, last night."

"I know. You woke up, remember?"

She shook her head. "No. But I remember the nightmare."

"What was it?"

Rune closed her eyes, shivering. "I saw a body," she said. "But it wasn't much of a body any more. Its heart had been cut out, and its head removed. The head was on a stake, which had been stabbed through the place where the heart should have been. Its eyes had been cut out, and it was covered in cuts. Spells. Cut into the flesh."

"What sorts of spells?"

"I don't know. Bad ones."

Eragon shivered. "I am sorry you had such a terrible dream."

But Rune wasn't finished. "The head was speaking," she said. "It said _thornessa,_ and then a word I didn't know. _Fien_. Something like that."

"_Fiern_," Eragon breathed. "Fiern means child. Not as in _a_ child, but as in the child _of_ someone. Like _du feirn Izlanzadí_, is Arya."

"So thornessa fiern means…" Rune trailed off, as the impact hit her. "Snake child. Eragon…"

"_Snakespawn._"


	19. When There Is Something To Tell

"Súndavar? I need to talk to you."

Súndavar glanced over his shoulder, recognized Rune, and frowned. "What?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Are you angry at me?"

"No…" he flicked his hair, and scooted over. Rune sat down next to him in the big chair. He met her eyes. "So."

"I'm worried about you."

Súndavar's frown deepened. "Why?" he asked. "I'm perfectly fine, without your worrying."

"Where were you, Sún? When you ran off."

His eyes fell. "No where," he muttered. "The castle, the town. You know. Around."

"No, I don't know. Would you show me?"

"Show you what?"

Rune stood up, and took Súndavar's hand. "Show me. The places you went."

Súndavar pulled his hand away, as if he had been scalded. "I don't need to explain myself to you," he snorted. "Go tumble Eragon, if you're looking for something to do."

Rune blinked at him. "Don't get defensive."

"Don't get nosy, Princess. Just because you have my loyalty doesn't mean you have to check up on me."

"Your loyalty?" Rune frowned. "Do I have that?" She glanced around the big room. The training room was dark – Súndavar had pulled the curtains to hide the sun. "Are you sure?"

"Of course! I'd do anything for you, and you bloody well know it!" he barked. Then his face softened. He took her hand again. "I'm…I'm sorry. I suppose I didn't get enough sleep last night."

Rune backed away a little bit. "That doesn't explain why you're so snappy. And nervous."

"Nervous? I'm not nervous." Súndavar twirled a finger in his hair, before glancing over his shoulder.

"See? You did it again. You keep looking behind you, as if something was going to sneak up on you."

"What would sneak up on me? Ghosts aren't real, Rune."

Rune stepped away. "Why do you say ghosts?" she asked. "I didn't even mention ghosts."

"…well…er…that's what you meant, right?"

"Not really. Are you afraid of a ghost, Súndavar?"

He shook his head firmly. "No. They aren't real. Besides, what would a ghost have against me?"

"What indeed?"

"Stop it!" he cried. "You're trying to trap me, aren't you? Back my words into a corner. I'm not hiding anything Rune, so just _stop!_" He turned tail and stalked from the room, black cloak flying like a shadow behind him.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Ieran fiddled with the dagger and the piece of wood, shaving off bits of it. Eragon watched his hands thoughtfully.

"I wouldn't have taken you for a carver," he said.

Ieran glanced at him, then smiled. "I'm not, at least not much of one. But it kind of nice to create something from nothing, isn't it?"

Eragon nodded, thinking of his days on Garrow's farm, how the tiny seed would grow into something big and strong and useful.

Ieran finished what he was carving and held it out to Eragon. It was a toy-sized horse, almost too realistic to be just wood. He admired it. "I would swear you've done that before."

"Súndavar's grandfather was a woodworker," Ieran dismissed. "He made beds and chairs and things. A much smaller version of me used to like to play with the leftover pieces."

Eragon noted that Ieran had said _Súndavar's grandfather_. Not _my father_. Curious.

"What will you do with it?" Eragon asked, handing the horse back to Ieran.

"I'll paint it, I suppose," Ieran said with a shrug. "Perhaps I'll put it in Rune's nursery."

Eragon glanced at the nursery. The door was open, and inside, Rune was rocking in a chair she had found, looking peaceful. He imagined her like that, in a month, with two children in her arms.

"Have you thought of names?" Ieran asked. Eragon realized he had been staring.

He shook his head. "Not much. I…I suppose we should, shouldn't we?"

Ieran looked thoughtful. "Perhaps. Sometimes it is best for these things to just come about. Other times it is best if you know what to name them. I would probably think of it a little, but not decide for sure. After all, what if you thought of names for boys, and they were girls?"

"We'll think of both," Eragon said. "It is the _nature_ of their names I'm more concerned with."

"How so?"

"Should I give them elf names, or human ones?" Eragon questioned. "Names of strong ones before them, or new names, so they can add their own strength?"

"You have a strong name," Ieran said. "How does it make you feel?"

"Sometimes I am proud of it. Others I wish it would go away, along with all expectations it holds for me."

"Then do not doom your children to such. Give them their own names, names that will hold their own tales, not of a namesake's."

Eragon nodded, then frowned. "Rune!" he called. The girl glanced up at him, then got up from her chair and came near.

She sat down beside him. "Yes?"

"Ieran and I were talking about names. Don't you suppose we should think of some?"

Ieran stood up. "I'll leave the two of you to it," he said, bowing a little. "I look forward to hearing what you decide."

Rune raised an eyebrow. "You've never seemed concerned with names before, Eragon. This is not about Súndavar getting a new one, is it?"

"No," Eragon said, shaking his head. "I just want them to have names they can be proud of. Names that will hold their strength."

"Do you suppose they'll look alike?"

"I don't know. But have you thought, at all, about naming?"

Rune shrugged. "I suppose. I'd like their names to begin with L."

"Why L?"

"Because, Life begins with L, and it is what we gave them. Loss begins with L, because we will lose some of our freedom when they are born. Liberty begins with L, and it is what we seek. And…" she blushed slightly. "Lycona begins with L."

Eragon touched her stomach and smiled. "Alright, L."

Rune laid her head on his shoulder. "You know what else begins with L?"

"Hmm?"

"Love."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"Eragon! Caitlin! Rune!"

David was out of breath as he stumbled into the Hold. All eyes turned to him.

"David!" Eragon cried. "You look like you've run a thousand leagues without stopping."

The Rider moved quickly to the boy's side, helping him to a chair.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, David," Rune said softly. "What troubles you?"

David glanced at each of them. "In town," he said. "There's been a murder."

Rune's eyes widened, and flew to Eragon. They met for a moment, before turning back to David.

"Tell us."

"As far as I can tell, he was a Varden supporter," David said. "I couldn't get much from people – they didn't dare mention the Varden or even his name, for fear of the poem."

"What poem?"

David took out a piece of paper from his pocket. "I copied the letters," he said. "But it was too hard to read." He handed the little grubby sheet to Rune, who stood up and cleared her throat.

"_He who dares defy his King,_

_Pain and death are all t'will bring,_

_Blood and bane are payment true,_

_For treason, these I give to you."_

There was a shocked sort of silence, before Rune folded the paper and sat down. She started to cry into her hands.

"Tell me more about the murder," Eragon said, face hard.

"The corpse had been mutilated practically beyond recognition," David said with a shiver, shaking his head sadly. "Its head had been cut off, and was on a stake, which was stabbed through its chest. The heart was missing, too."

Rune gave a little whimper, and Eragon pulled her into his lap, stroking her hair as her tears soaked the front of his tunic.

"What's wrong?" David asked. "It's awful, I know, and excuse any indifference, but it isn't the first person who's lost their life. This is a _war_, even if it isn't a battle."

Rune didn't stop crying. She whimpered something that sounded like "he couldn't have."

Eragon kissed her forehead, standing her up. His eyes were hard. "Excuse me," he said, nodding to the room's other inhabitants. "I have something to take care of. Caitlin, will you put her to bed?"

Rune didn't protest as Caitlin led her to her bedroom.

Eragon turned to David. "Watch them," he said. "If Súndavar comes, don't let him anywhere near. For anything."

Eragon moved to stride out the door, but he was stopped.

_No, little Rider._

He glanced backwards. Slate watched him with golden eyes. _I will talk to Shadow,_ he said. _Stay here, and wait for my return._

ooooooooooooooooooo

_You have become very bold indeed if you thought they would not find out._

Súndavar jumped up from his seat, glancing over his shoulder. Slate looked very angry, and very fierce.

_And you have because very insolent,_ Súndavar snorted, _What are you accusing me of, dragon?_

_The man was a supporter of the Varden,_ Slate said. _He fought for the same cause as you. Have you really fallen so far as to be nothing more than a King's toy?_

Súndavar stood up, backing away. _I didn't do anything! _He growled.

_And now you lie to me? I, your dragon and heart bond? I do not believe it is I who has become insolent, but you._

Súndavar shook his head, stepping back until he ran into a wall. _Get away, dragon. You don't know what you're talking about. The darkness of this place has clouded your mind. I am as much on Rune's side today as I ever was. And that man's blood is not on my hands._

Slate let a thin line of smoke snake upwards. _Then you have made your choice,_ he said. _Know today that we are no longer Rider and dragon, Súndavar. No longer shall you fly on my back. No longer shall we speak in one another's minds. All love between us has been cast into the abyss of Oblivion._

The dragon took flight, and was gone from view.

Súndavar sank to his knees, in shock. _No,_ he whispered. _No…Slate! Slate, come back!_

The dragon did not return.

_Slate! I'm sorry! Slate!_

Súndavar screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground. He felt the tears stream down his face, burning, scalding, wet hot tears. _Slate…_

_What have I done?_

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Slate was silent when he landed in the Hold. His eyes were sad, and seemed quite empty.

"Well?"

But Eragon did not have to ask. The dragon's demeanor was enough to tell him all he needed to know.

"He is guilty, then."

_He believes it was the right thing to do,_ Slate said. _He does not believe the King has turned him, but it is the path he is on._

"Is it possible to turn him from this path?" Eragon pleaded. Losing Súndavar…it could turn the direction of the war. And…they were brothers. Not by blood, but by a bond as deep as any.

_He feels shame for his deed,_ Slate said. _Perhaps he can be convinced to return to you, for his love for Rune and his love for you still burn bright._

Eragon did not get a chance to answer. From Rune's bedroom, there was a scream.

He rushed to her. She was clutching her stomach, cringing in agony. "Eragon," she breathed. "Eragon, I'm all wet."

A vague memory sparked in Eragon's mind, of a time back in Carvahall, when a townswoman had had a baby. There had been excited jitters when "her water broke". It meant the baby was coming. At the time, Eragon hadn't understood.

He cursed aloud. "Rune, it's too early!"

David peeked into the room. "I heard Rune scream."

"Get Ieran!" Eragon barked at him in panic. It was too early. Rune couldn't have them here, now, _now_ of all times. He had other things to deal with. Súndavar, Slate, Galbatorix. Not this too. Not now.

But it was now. Eragon kneeled beside Rune. Her eyes were glassy with fear and pain.

He stroked her hand gently. "Rune? Rune, we'll be okay," he said, but his voice did not sound as if he meant it. Rune just shook her head and closed her eyes. A tear ran down her cheek.

Ieran looked equally panicked when he entered the room with David. He glanced at Rune, then Eragon.

"Fool!" he cried. "I don't know what to do!"

Eragon stared at him. He had never seen the Shade look frightened, but now he did. Ieran's eyes flicked from Eragon to Rune to David, then back again. He closed them tightly.

When he opened them again, the fear was gone. He knelt at Rune's side. "Rune?" he said gently, "Rune, can you hear me?"

Rune nodded. Her hand tightened around Eragon's, and she squeaked in pain.

"The clenching? That means that it's time. Your children want out," Ieran said. He fumbled with the words, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. The fear was gone, but he was still nervous. He chewed on his lip. "Eragon, undress her. David, get towels, blankets, anything of that sort. Birth is a messy thing."

David nodded and left, as Eragon set to work with Rune's clothes. Ieran's hands were gentle as he checked the necessary things. When he felt her stomach, his face paled.

"What's wrong?" Eragon demanded.

"One is upside-down," Ieran said shakily. "It cannot be born that way, not for its safety or Rune's."

Rune screamed again, and a flow of blood appeared. Ieran turned paler.

"Eragon, get me a needle," he ordered. "I have to turn the child around."

"What's a needle going to do?" Eragon asked. Ieran glared at him, and he obeyed. He shuffled through Rune's things, before returning with a sewing needle.

Ieran stoically set to work.

"What are you doing?" Eragon cried. "You'll kill it!"

"I've done this with horses," Ieran said, voice stiff. "The child cannot be born breech, Eragon. Both it and Rune will die."

Rune whimpered and reached for Eragon's hand. They squeezed one another tightly.

David peeked into the room, before sheepishly entering. He set the towels at the foot of the bed and retreated.

"Rune, you'll have to push now," Ieran urged. "Softly, at first, just a little, alright? When I tell you, you'll have to push as hard as you can."

Rune nodded.

"Come on…come on…" Ieran clenched his hands together, then stretched them out. He was chewing on his lip.

"Fool!"

Ieran turned. Caitlin stood over them, looking indignant.

"You could have at least called someone who knows whet they're doing," she snorted, pushing the Shade out of the way and kneeling in his place. Rune looked relieved, and a small smile appeared on her frightened face.

"Eragon, you'd best leave too. I'll tell you when there's something to tell."


	20. Lionheart and Moondance

**Author's Note: Hahahahahaha! To CaramelBoost, miya! For her 5KB review. That thing had to be, literally, a page long. Seriously. Yes, it was very long. Not much of it was actually about the chapter, but it was pretty sweet anyways. :D Also, a little notice…it probably means more to me than to you guys, but my series now has more than a thousand reviews! Yeah! Hearts to you, lovelies! Kittie**

_Screams echoed over the castle. Screams of a mother, robbed of her children._

"_Get them away!" she shrieked. "I don't want to look at them!"_

_The midwife cradled the two lifeless forms in her arms, staring sadly. Hands gentle, she wrapped them in a blanket. They would be buried later._

_The mother shrieked again, tears streaming down her face like a waterfall of sorrow._

"_Take them away," she sobbed. "Just take them away."_

oooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon snapped awake with a cry. Ieran glanced at him, eyes gentle. It was always hard, the waiting. He had been as eager for Súndavar's birth.

A scream came from inside the room, and Eragon jerked in surprise.

"Get them away!" Rune was shrieking, sounding as if the very devil was chasing her. "I don't want to look at them!"

Eragon's eyes widened, and he got to his feet. He was in the room with unnatural speed, at Rune's side.

Caitlin's face was wan, her eyes sad. A blanket wrapped around something still and cold lay in her lap.

"It was too early," she told Eragon gently. She laid a hand on his shoulder, before leaving the room with the lifeless bodies.

Rune was crying, softly now, tears rolling down her cheeks. She rolled over, away from Eragon, and pulled the covers over herself.

Eragon's heart was caught in his throat. He had not wanted to be a father, that was true, but he had gotten used to the fact that it was inevitable. He had almost, _almost_ begun to look forward to it. Look forward to grubby fingers and high pitched voices; look forward to giggles and laughing and being called _daddy_. And now…

"Stillbirths are not uncommon, especially with such a young mother," Ieran said in his ear, suddenly beside him. "There was nothing that could be done."

Eragon bit his lip, then turned away, running after Caitlin. He ignored the sobs that clawed at his throat, ignored the tears that streaked his cheeks.

"Give them to me," he said, when he caught up to her.

Caitlin fixed him with strong eyes. "Eragon, it will only make things worse. No parent should have to bury their children."

"Give them to me," he said again. There was steel in his voice.

Caitlin saw he wasn't going to budge, and handed him the small bundle. With a sad nod, she turned away and disappeared.

Eragon unwrapped the two still forms and stared at them sadly. They were small, but surely not too small for life. A boy and a girl.

They did not deserve this. Eragon cursed every god he knew; innocents should not be robbed of life before even getting to try it out.

_Saphira, why? _he asked, reaching out to his dragon, as he always did in times of distress. _It isn't fair._

_Life, Eragon,_ she answered softly, _is not always fair._

Eragon began to cry again, bringing the children close to him. With a start, he realized they were warm.

He hurried back to the Hold, babies still clutched tightly against his chest. He ran into his room, setting them on the bed. Closing his eyes, he searched each one. A steady stream of mental feedback flooded his brain, and he laughed in relief and joy.

They were hungry.

The girl cried out, moving her arms as if searching for something. Eragon picked her up, then her brother, and brought them back to Rune.

She was sitting up now, hearing the cries. Her face broke into a smile when she saw Eragon.

"We have children," he told her. The joy in his voice surpassed any other words he could have said.

"No," Rune said. "We have a family."

ooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar struck his sword against the manikin, cleaving the head from its shoulders. Before it hit the ground, he had sent a spinning kick in its direction, sending it flying and knocking another manikin over. Several more heads crashed to the ground as Súndavar decapitated them in new and interesting ways.

He twisted through the air, breaking a neck as he did a handspring off of the head it was attached to. Using the momentum, he kicked another over and spun around to sink Persephone into a toy footman's throat, where there was no armor.

"Stop!"

The boy halted, and ripped the black blindfold he had been wearing away from his face. He glanced around the ruined room. Of the hundred war-dolls that had been standing, only four remained. The others laid around him on the floor, either headless or with would-be mortal wounds in between the armor they had been equipped with.

Galbatorix looked pleased. "You'd make a brilliant assassin, Snakespawn," he said. "That's ninety-six soldiers in five minutes. Blind."

Súndavar felt a rush of pride. He fought it down. "They didn't fight back," he said, shrugging. "It's just like knocking over sticks."

The King laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. "Your Shade-blood runs stronger now than it ever has," he said. "I'm almost tempted to try out your skill on a live group, but I can't spare the men."

"Perhaps traitors?" Súndavar asked hopefully. "Or slaves?" He had never felt as alive as he had in the exercise. He'd never been allowed to fight like that, never stretched his muscles to such wonderful extents. Oromis would have condemned that sort of fighting – it was slaughter, cold-blooded Shade's tactics, not honorable Rider's battle. But he had felt so acutely aware, so in tune with his mind and body and the world around him. Every breath of the exercise rang in his head still, a whisper that would never be forgotten.

Something flashed in Galbatorix's eyes. "Surely murdering a hundred real men wouldn't sit well on Rune's stomach," he said. "These are toys, Súndavar. It is harder to sink a blade into the softness of a man's throat, hear his scream die with a gurgling of blood. That maneuver you pulled with kicking the head into another was clever, but could you do it in real life? When that head has cold, dead eyes?"

"I am strong," Súndavar growled. "Besides, I've proven I have a stomach for blood. Gore bothers my type little."

"Your type?"

"Shades, I mean. I am a Shade, aren't I?"

Galbatorix frowned. "Perhaps, in every way but the spirit-possession. Your mind is quite your own, Shadow."

Súndavar nodded, and felt a stinging in his heart. Was his mind his own? Did he really make his choices for himself? Or were they the King's choices, given to him so cleverly that he thought they were his own? Was he just as pure as he had been, just as devoted to the right and just? Just as determined to kill Galbatorix and bring peace to the realm?

Was he the Súndavar who had slept next to Rune, curled with her, legs entangled? Or was he someone else?

Had he changed?

These thoughts puzzled him. Would that Súndavar have sought refuge with the King, running his deadly errands?

_No._

That Súndavar would have spat at the very idea that he would be a King's toy. That Súndavar would have sooner taken his last breath in Rune's good graces with a dagger between his ribs than become a murderer for the King's glory.

Súndavar frowned, brows creasing slightly in confusion. The King watched him, detecting the change with fury.

"Put the blindfold back on," he ordered. "We'll try it again."

Súndavar didn't move. His face was touched lightly by a cute, sad sort of confusion, like a puppy robbed of a promised bone. "No," he whispered, very softly. So softly, so very softly, he shook his head. The blindfold fell from his fingers, and he turned around, the trancelike look still haunting his eyes. He glanced behind, at the furious king in his wake, and whispered again. "Maybe later."

Quiet steps lead him away from the King's spire, and into the castle's forgotten hallways. When the King could no longer hear his steps, he broke into a run. He ran, ducking around halls and through doorways, until his muscles burned. Then he ran some more, feeling the pumping of his heart in every muscle in his legs. It felt like acid was surging through his veins, like blood had been replaced by fire. Sweat poured from his skin, soaking the pretty black tunic the King had given him, until he ripped it off and threw it away, never pausing the pounding of boots on tile that had become the world.

He ran until he collapsed, until his muscles refused take another step. He didn't know where he was, or even remember getting there. The vague smell of mold and rot reached his senses, but he didn't find it unpleasant. It didn't even register in his mind that it was there.

The fire still burning in his veins, Súndavar gave into the welcoming blackness, sinking into a sleep seemingly deeper than death itself. It was a relief.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune rocked slowly in the chair, feeding the girl. Eragon held his son with a look close to awe.

"He's so tiny," he breathed, one finger stroking the child's cheek. The baby moved against him, giving a little whimpery breath, before settling back to sleep.

"They'll get bigger fast," Rune said, repositioning. The girl had caught hold of a strand of hair that had fallen from her braid, and was clutching it tightly. "What color do you suppose her hair will be?" Rune she, stroking the baby's hair. The girl had thick, feathery locks the color of pale gold. "Think it will darken to your color?"

Eragon shrugged. "They're so beautiful," he murmured absently, smiling. The baby he held yawned contentedly.

"Of course they are," Rune snorted. "You expected them to be ugly?" she smiled to show she was teasing. "Their father is very handsome."

"And their mother is very fair," Eragon returned, meeting her green eyes with his intense brown ones.

Rune laughed. "All I know is I'll be glad to have my stomach its proper size again," she said. "At least you had the sense not to say anything stupid."

"I thought you looked beautiful, belly and all," Eragon teased, stroking the boy's dark hair.

"We should probably think of names now," Rune dismissed, changing the subject from her looks. "Now that we've seen them, and all."

Eragon nodded. The child in his eyes awoke and began to cry, stretching and writhing. He rocked it gently, trying to remember a lullaby he had heard. The words didn't come, so he hummed it.

Rune began to sing, voice high and sweet.

"_Hush, hush, Lion,_

_Don't be scared,_

_Stars are high,_

_Above your lair,_

_Papa hunts,_

_While Mama sings,_

_Night-gales fly,_

_On golden wings,_

_So Hush, Hush, Lion,_

_Go to Sleep,_

_Moon keeps witness,_

_Not a peep."_

The boy quieted at the sound of her voice, settling back into Eragon's arms to stare at him with wide navy eyes.

"Lion starts with L," Eragon said absently.

Rune laughed. "Leon!" she said. She would have clapped her hands in glee – a habit Eragon found rather cute – if she hadn't have been nursing the girl. "His name is Leon. Leon, Leon, Lionheart."

Eragon smiled, looking into the boy's eyes. "Leon. He looks like a Leon. It is a strong name."

Rune glanced at the child she held. "_Moon keeps witness,_" she hummed, before giggling. "Luné."

"Lune-ay," Eragon said slowly, tasting the name. "Lion and Moon. A name of power, and a name of magic."

"Leon and Luné," Rune crooned, yawning and laying back in the rocking chair. "Leon and Luné, Lionheart and Moondance."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ieran nudged Súndavar's still body with the toe of his boot, a frown on his face. He blinked his maroon eyes slowly. The boy didn't stir.

"What's wrong with him?"

Ieran spun, rikan drawn and flicked into working position. Caitlin watched him with an odd expression.

The Shade cleared his throat nervously, looking at his feet, before flicking the rikan shut and tucking it in his belt again. He shuffled a little under her gaze, as if embarrassed. "I don't…I don't know. What's wrong with him, that is."

Caitlin kneeled and touched Súndavar's brow with two fingers. She leaned and kissed his cheek, without knowing quite why. Ieran stared at her incredulously.

"I doubt David will be very happy about that," he said. There was a sort of fatherly protection in his voice, although Caitlin couldn't tell whether it was towards her or towards the unconscious boy at his feet.

She flicked her hair and got to her feet. "Why do they hate one another so much?" she asked. "David never told me."

"Some things are better left untold," Ieran said, shaking his head and turning away. Caitlin caught his shoulder.

"Wait. Ieran, please."

The Shade looked into her eyes for a long moment, as if contemplating. He reached his decision and nodded. "Not here," he said. "You can come to my chambers."

Caitlin was equally excited about finally finding out where Ieran spent his nights as to finding about David and Súndavar's feud.

Ieran picked up Súndavar as if he weighed nothing, pressing his lips to his forehead gently, before motioning for Caitlin to follow and striding off down the dark hallway. He lead her down halls and stairways, until they reached the dank maze that was the dungeons.

"Why do you live down here?" she questioned, jumping out of the way of a drizzle of water, only to be dripped on by another. "It's so…gloomy."

Ieran didn't respond, simply shaking his head and urging her to hurry. She almost lost him when he ducked around a corner.

"Don't get lost," he said. "You'll never find your way out. You'll die of either starvation or despair."

Caitlin stayed closer to him after that.

Finally, the Shade stopped. They had reached something that looked like it had once been a doorway. It had been strung with silks and damasks, sheer fabrics lined with bells and embroidered with gems. He pulled one aside, letting Caitlin pass before entering with Súndavar's limp form still cradled in his arms.

The room behind the silks was equally exotic, strung with fabrics and links of bells. Shelves lined the walls, covered with trinkets. Several dozen little figures of carved wood sat on the shelves as well. Pots of paint littered the floor, and a divan littered with colorful pillows was draped with expensive blankets and sheets. Ieran set Súndavar down on it, staring at his son for a moment, before turning back to Caitlin.

The girl was looking around the room in wonder. She had never thought of Ieran as the type of person to be interested in art or literature, but his room was like something straight out of a fairy story. She picked up a little figurine of a cat, curled and sleeping. It was half painted, its face and upper body painted with a calico pattern. Each hair, it seemed, had been done separately. It seemed as though it was almost living, frozen in time and apt to awaken with naught but a word. Ieran glanced at it, then quickly away.

"I was making that for you, actually," he said. "But it is not yet finished."

Caitlin set the cat back in its shelf sheepishly and sat down across from Ieran. The Shade had settled into a nest of pillows, but not before taking off his shirt and kicking off his boots. He ran his fingers through his orangish hair and blinked at Caitlin, before reaching for a bottle of wine. He poured it into two glasses – little for him and less for Caitlin – and took a sip from his own.

"So."

Caitlin examined him quietly, as he got his bearings to tell the story. His chest was finely muscled, his skin smooth and hairless. If she looked beyond the fact that he was Súndavar's father, she could see him as very handsome, almost to a point of boyish beauty. He could have been only a few years older than Eragon, though Caitlin knew he had to be about thirty.

"So," he repeated, sipping his wine again. "You are here to hear a story."

Caitlin said nothing.

"To make a long story short, I suppose David blames Súndavar for his mother's death," Ieran continued. "But short stories are boring, and tell little, mm? So I guess I might as well start from the beginning.

"In this case, the beginning is a little before David and Súndavar were born. I had a sweetheart – a lover, really – at the time, whose name was Alyss. Then there was Freya. I had never noticed her, really, but she was a friend of Alyss's – a half-elf slave of Galbatorix's."

Ieran swirled his wine in the glass a little, before taking another sip and making a face, as if it had suddenly turned sour. He set it aside, then fixed his eyes on Caitlin again. "I'm sure you know how things go, when love is made," he said, looking embarrassed. "I was young, and unconcerned and oblivious of things that could result. It was quite a shock when Alyss told me she was pregnant.

"Scarcely a week later it was revealed that Freya was _also_ with child – the father was unknown, even to her. You know how it is with slaves."

Caitlin shivered. If David hadn't protected her, she might be one of the poor slave girls – like Freya – who had had unwanted children, born of pain and frigid, malicious, hated love. She had delivered enough babies like that to know the pain and fear of a mother whose fault was not her own.

"In any case, at the time I was under a sort of apprenticeship with Galbatorix. I…I took care of things, for him, and he taught me strength. I took no pride in it, even then, but I thought it was necessary if I was going to flee with Alyss. To be able to protect us, I suppose. In any case, Galbatorix learned of Alyss's condition, and told me that to be _truly_ strong, I would have to kill her, after the child was born, and raise it in my image."

"But that's awful!" Caitlin cried out, unable to control herself. Her hands had clenched into tight fists at the thought.

"Of course," Ieran soothed, nodding. "I was far too in love – or what I thought was love, at the time – with her to even think of such things. So we concocted a sort of plan. When the child was born, Alyss would flee. I would tell Galbatorix that both she and the child had died in birthing, and Freya would raise my child with her own."

"It worked fairly well. Freya's child was born early, about two weeks before Alyss's. She gave him a human name, David. When Alyss had Súndavar, she ran, and Freya assumed mother duties for him as well. It was about five years later when Galbatorix realized the trickery. Freya was killed in cold blood in front of the boys, leaving Súndavar and David to fend for themselves. I did what I could for the both of them, but it was not much."

Caitlin had a stricken look on her face. "You mean…David's part elf?"

"Only about a quarter," Ieran dismissed. "Not enough to affect his appearance, but certainly enough to give him strength and an affinity to magic and dragons. It's lucky he hasn't touched any of Saphira's eggs, or we may have two squabbling Riders."

Caitlin was silent after that for a good minute, deep in contemplation. "So David hates Súndavar because he blames him for Freya's death?"

"As I said – Long story made short." Ieran sat up from lounging against the pillows, abdomen moving under his tan skin, and shook out his hair. "But they never got along, even as children. They were constantly competing. You know the scar on David's back? Súndavar bit him."

Caitlin stifled a laugh, remembering the scar in question. It was fairly large. "What did he have, lion fangs?"

Ieran laughed with her, and shrugged. "It wasn't long after that that I…left," he said, face pained. "That was when I was freed from bondage – my Shade-spirits left me for dead, and I crawled from the castle. The next thing I remember was waking up bandaged in a slave cart. I ended up a slaver, after I managed to kill the one in charge of me. Under the name of Keorg."

"Why Keorg?"

Ieran shrugged and stood up. "Come," he said. "I'll lead you back to the surface."

"You shouldn't leave Súndavar. If he wakes up – "

Ieran glanced sadly at his son. "He's not going to wake up, Caitlin."

"What?" Panic touched Caitlin with icy fingers. "He's not—"

"No. But he's exhausted." Ieran let out a sigh. "Now _come_. Unless you wish to stay the night here, we'd best go."

Caitlin didn't protest any more, allowing Ieran to lead her back the way they had come.

**Author's Note: Heh. Second one in one chapter. Anyways. When I began this chapter, I had every intention of Rune having a stillbirth. You know what stopped me? It wasn't that I was afraid to kill them – being babies and all. It wasn't that I just _couldn't do it_, or even because I knew you (a few of you in particular) would murder me. _They wouldn't let me_. Luné and Leon wanted to live. I may sound crazy here, but the characters do have lives of their own, and Luné and Leon just _wouldn't die._ They refused to. Mm.**

**Also, to lyokolady, I truly am sorry I haven't been sending these to you for editing. I'm just in such a rush to get them up and get this story finished with. :sheepish:**


	21. Of Apathy and Forgiveness

Súndavar woke to pain. Pain gorged on his legs, biting and ripping them, chewing with razor sharp teeth at every nerve and sending fire into his torso. He rolled, groaning, and fell with a thud of Ieran's divan.

"You're awake, then."

The boy jumped at the sound of his father's voice.

"Do you know what today is?"

Ieran had his back turned, and was hunched over something. He seemed to be painting.

Súndavar crawled over to him, wincing with each movement of his over-used legs, and settled to the ground. He said nothing, but Ieran didn't mind.

"Today you're seventeen," he said, glancing at him, then back at the thing he was painting. He blew on it, whispered a word, and handed it to him. "Since my…your. Since _your_ necklace hangs from Rune's neck, I thought…"

The thing in Súndavar's hand was made of wood. The boy inspected it quietly. A snake – too still to be real, too lifelike to be simply a hunk of wood – coiled around a red stone, with black scales and two tiny gems inset in it for eyes, seemed to inspect him in return. Súndavar almost expected it to blink back at him.

"It's beautiful," he said. "Thank you…" he bit his tongue on the next word, before muttering, softly. "father."

If Ieran heard the title, he didn't respond to it. "You'd best return to your friends," he said. "I think you will find they are more sympathetic and understanding to your position than you'd think."

"You were watching, with the war dolls. Weren't you? You talked to them." Súndavar already knew the answer, and didn't wait for him to respond. "I don't want their sympathy," he said. "I screwed up. I get that. That does not mean I want them playing 'babysit Shadow'."

Ieran glanced at him, then away.

"You're disappointed in me, aren't you?"

Ieran's brow furrowed. "I don't have the right to be disappointed in you," he said. "I have never taught you anything, nor been there. Besides, I am no example to emulate. Súndavar, you are you in yourself, and I am not disappointed." He cleared his throat and stood up. "I'll lead you back to the surface now, if that is what you wish. Whether you go to Eragon and Rune or to Galbatorix is not my business."

Ieran left the room, and Súndavar followed. It hurt his legs – he had run them to the bone – and he limped awfully, but he stayed at Ieran's side.

"Rune had twins, you know," Ieran told him as they walked through the wet dungeon mazes. "A boy and a girl."

Súndavar grunted. "Eragon's children," was all he said.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar was quiet and brooding as he crept into the Hold. Unsure whether or not he wanted to be discovered by the others, be stepped lightly, so as not to make the floor creak. He needn't have bothered – the floor was stone.

"Oh. Sún."

Rune's voice was different than he had heard it before.

Súndavar spun to face her, then looked away, at the ground. He peered at her again through a curtain of black hair.

She was holding a child carefully to her, wrapped in a blanket. Its pale curls reminded Súndavar of clouds, and of Lexi.

"Your baby is beautiful," he murmured, not wanting to meet her eyes. The shame was greatest, around her. Because he knew that she would forgive, knew that she would love him. Because she was _good_. And he…he was…he was not.

She stepped towards him, slowly, as if contemplating what to do. Her sage eyes searched his face – what of it she could see, as his hair proved to obstruct her view a bit – for something.

"I don't suppose there is anything I can say to make you feel better?"

Súndavar shook his head in shame.

Rune sighed lightly. "Sún…we are all apt to fall. None are perfect, and some of us…some of us wish for things, _want things,_ hope for things, that we can't have. So we try to find ways to get them. You were searching, and my father, it seems, found a way to convince you that he held answers. I do not blame that against you – he has turned stronger men than you to his side. And he has murdered stronger men than you that have stood in his way. I was a fool to bring you here."

"It's not your fault I have Varden blood on my hands," Súndavar muttered. "It's not your fault I wasn't strong enough to defend my mind against the trickery. It is not your fault…" he paused, then ran his fingers through his hair and let a tears slip down his cheek. "It is not your fault I am the way I am. I liked it, Rune. Every second of it."

He met her eyes, squarely now. "I am of little use to you, now that I am dragonless and defiled. I should leave. You'd have a better chance. Besides – I'll not attend the king's lessons again."

Rune shook her head. "People have little use for lace or trinkets, but they keep them anyway," she said. "And you are worth more to me than a thousand of such." She stepped closer, and handed him the sleeping baby. "Súndavar, I understand why you did what you did. What matters is that you are sorry and shamed, and that you'll not do it again."

"It would be better for me and you both if I died," Súndavar said. It was not a statement of angst or anger or despair, merely an observation. "We would not have to worry about my loyalties, or my weakness. I could not give in to darkness. And you would not have to bother with me any longer. You and Eragon could marry and be happy."

Rune frowned. "I do not want to hear you say that ever again."

"As you wish," he said. His attention turned to the child in his arms. He was silent for a moment, before kissing the baby's brow. "She is fair as moonbeams," he said. "A rose blossom."

"Her name is Luné."

"Fitting. Where is the other?"

"Eragon has Leon in the gardens," Rune said. "We thought it best I meet you alone."

"Why? Eragon knows of my deed." Súndavar shook his head. "Perhaps Eragon would have the strength to kill me where I stand and end this?" he eyed Rune thoughtfully. "It would be easier. I have already died inside, along with that man."

Rune frowned again, this time making a face. "If you can speak of your life so lightly, it's a wonder it hasn't been stolen from you sooner."

Súndavar sighed and handed the baby back. He began to pace. "It brings me joy, seeing you and Eragon and your children," he said. "I thought it would bring bitterness."

"I'm glad you don't hate him because of what happened."

"Never. I suppose my lapse into darkness has brought a sort of understanding. What use is life if we cannot find joy in what happens? In anything? What use is it if we cannot find solace in ourselves, and in those around us?"

Rune was quiet. This was a Súndavar she had never seen. A Súndavar who was afraid of himself, but could look to others for affirmation. A Súndavar who realized the depths of life, and knew that there were some things he would never understand. But…also a Súndavar who felt empty, who could see and hear and think, but not _feel_. A Súndavar who wanted nothing more than for it all to be over, so that those he loved would be safe.

She thought about the stages of his life, from angsty slave-boy to cutting Rider, to now…what was he? He had run from himself, cut away his heart, blocked out his feelings, so that those around him might be able to be safe.

Suddenly Rune wanted to cry. She wanted to run to him, embrace him, cry into his chest, and when no more tears would come, they would love. They'd sink to the floor, find a way out of their clothes, and just _be_. He would awaken from his state of self apathy, and be happy with her again.

But she didn't. She didn't let the tears fall. Instead, she retreated to the nursery, Luné still clutched tightly to her.

She set the sleeping baby in her crib, tucking a blanket tightly around her, before leaning to kiss her softly. "May the stars bless your slumber," she murmured.

"And the heavens themselves bless your life when slumber is not its own," Súndavar said. Rune hadn't realized he had followed her.

He kissed her forehead softly. "You should sleep as well," he said. "It's barely a day since your labor, and already you're up."

Rune's eyes turned worried. "Will you hurt yourself? If I sleep?"

Súndavar blinked at her. "Don't mistake my sayings of death for a wish for such," he said, touching her cheek. "Whether I live or die, I do both for you. If you wish for me to go on, then on I shall go."

"I do. Don't die, Súndavar."

She went on tiptoes, and brushed his lips with her own. "I love you, cutter."

He laughed, brushing his hair from his eyes, and left the room. "Sleep," he said, not glancing behind. "I'll be here when you wake up."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

But he wasn't. When she awoke, Rune found only Eragon. The Rider was watching her lovingly in her slumber.

"Saphira took him to search for Slate," Eragon answered her unspoken question in her eyes. "We haven't seen him since…"

Rune nodded and glanced towards the cribs. Although there were two of them, both babies lay in one, close together.

"Leon screamed until he felt Luné's warmth," Eragon said. "Then he fell asleep."

Rune yawned and nodded, sitting up. "They've been together for seven and a half months," she said. "I guess it would be comforting. So many things must be new; it would feel good to have something that did not change."

Eragon settled on the bed next to her, staring into her eyes. His fingers found her hair, and began to play idly with a strand of it. "How is Súndavar?" he asked. It was almost as if he did not want to know the answer, for fear it was a bad one.

"He is a shell of what he once was," she said sadly. "He no longer cares if he lives, or if he dies. It's as if…he wants it to end, but he won't end it. Because I don't want him to."

Eragon stared sadly at her. "He has forsaken himself, then," he said. "Cut out his feelings on the chance they are the wrong ones."

Rune sighed softly, nuzzling closer to Eragon. He wrapped his hands around her, slipping his fingers through the lacing of her dress and onto her soft skin. She gasped and pulled away.

"Not again," she murmured, pulling farther from him until she tumbled off the bed, landing on her butt. Eragon laughed and helped her up. She giggled back, then lost her balance and tumbled back with him onto the bed. He rolled so he pinned her against the covers.

Rune squirmed. "Eragon!" she crowed, laughing, trying to free herself. "Quit!"

He laughed and nuzzled his nose against her chest, before setting his chin on her and staring into her eyes. She stared back, then squirmed again.

"Get off of me, oaf!" she gasped in between giggles. "I'll tell Ieran on you!"

Eragon stared at her smugly and didn't move. The grin on his face didn't slide an inch. "Tell him what?" he asked. "_Oh, Ieran! The father of my children is sitting on me and won't get off! Help me!_"

Rune crowed as Eragon tickled her. She kicked at him, but could do little to make him stop. Finally she managed to succeed in rolling him over, so she was on top.

She straddled him with a triumphant look. "Quit," she said, firmly, glaring at him.

_I hope I'm not…interrupting anything?_

Rune jumped at Saphira's voice, falling off Eragon and onto the floor again. She glanced at the crib, surprised that both babies had slept through their parents' tousling.

_No, Saphira. Any sign of Slate? Hold up – we'll be right out._

_Yes. Get your clothes on and join Súndavar and I in the main room._

Before Eragon could protest that their clothes were already on, and had remained such during the duration of her absence, Saphira broke their connection. He pulled Rune to her feet, and the two quickly left the room.

Súndavar was dismounting Saphira as the two skidded into the room. He glanced their way, then shook his head. "No sign," he muttered, black eyebrows curving into a delicate, feminine sort of frown. Like his father, Súndavar was fair to a point of beauty.

_We searched the skies around, _Saphira affirmed. _Slate has vanished. Not even your hawk has seen him._

"Tawnyclaw?"

_Is well. He has a nest and mate, in a tree a few miles out of the city. I asked him about Slate, but he knew nothing._

"What of Matrix? Have you seen her?"

_Matrix will not return until she finds what she seeks,_ Saphira said, shaking her head in a sad sort of way. Her glistening scales shone as she crooned a sad note. _Nonetheless, she is where she wants to be. I cannot say the same for Slate._

"If we don't find him, something awful might happen," Súndavar said. His eyes were distressed, as if fear for his dragon gave him a bit of a purpose to go on living.

"He's a dragon," Rune said, touching his shoulder fondly, then moving her hand to his cheek. "He is strong, and he loves you."

"He renounced our love before he left," Súndavar said, pulling away and beginning to pace. Rune recognized the pacing as a habit picked up from Galbatorix, but voted it wise not to point that out.

"You cannot renounce love," Eragon stated. "How many times do you think Rune has tried? Love is something you feel, not something you _have_."

"It's true," Rune nodded. "If you can renounce love, neither you nor Eragon would mean anything to me. But you can't, and you do."

Súndavar frowned again, this time deeper, and stared at a crack in the floor. "He loves Saphira," he said. "He'll return to her, in time. Whether or not love can be renounced is not the issue."

"You really don't want to live anymore, do you?"

Súndavar's green eyes flicked over Eragon, then he shrugged. "I'm of little use," he said. "I've fallen, and I owe a debt in blood. Whether it is repaid sooner or later matters little to me."

Eragon bit his lip. Rune cracked her knuckles angrily. "Súndavar, what's important is that Galbatorix dies. Get over yourself, please, and be the person you were before."

Súndavar blinked sadly. "Rune, I'm _not_ the person I was before any more than Slate is still an egg." He turned on his heels, and strode to his room.

Rune's head fell, exasperated, onto Eragon's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Saphira blew smoke.

**Author's Note: I know it's a little shorter than usual, but I'm in a rush. I'm going to visit some cousins who live in the middle of nowhere and only have dial-up. I'll write while I'm there, if I can, and hopefully post as soon as I get back. Love you all. Hearts, Kittie**

**Ps) Blindseer? XD Interesting pairing idea. I like it. Unfortunately…if I did that, the person who Caitlin is modeled after that might kill me…:'( :D**


	22. How the Story Was Written

Súndavar closed the door to his room softly and glanced around it. The chambers the king had provided him with were much better, much finer, but it didn't matter much. He settled onto his bed and pretended it was the finest of silk.

He had seen Rune's face, the face she had given him when she thought of perhaps giving him love. He understood the battle she had fought inside. And he respected it.

Besides. He wasn't sure that was what he wanted, now. It would be harder to repay his debt, if he had had a taste of what it was like, with Rune. It would be harder to leave her behind.

He yawned and shook out his hair, wondering how long it would take before Rune would free him from his bond to her – he had promised, after all – and let him sink into the welcoming oblivion that would make all things right. Death, he mused, was not a pleasant prospect, but it was not an unpleasant one either. Lexi had seemed rather content, even happy at times. And the Vault of Souls, from what she had said, was not an awful place.

Yes, he wouldn't mind it so much. Eragon could take care of defeating the King – he was strong enough, brave enough. True enough – and Rune could raise her children in peace. David would have no one to hate, the Varden man would be avenged. Even Ieran wouldn't mind so much, he supposed, because Rune would have Freoh fetched from Keladry and Alanna, and Ieran could raise him like a true father would.

He pulled the little snake out of the leather pouch he carried around his waist and stroked it fondly. He hadn't even remembered it was his birthday. It surprised him that even Ieran had remembered the day. There seemed more important things to remember. In fact, he hadn't even told his friends the date. It had never come up.

Seventeen? That must mean Rune must be nearly sixteen by now.

A low knock sounded on his door, and he glanced upwards. "Come in," he said, voice strong and kind of bland, with no sadness, but no happiness either.

Eragon entered, and sat down next to him on the bed. There were no words for a few minutes.

"You know, I think we could beat him."

Súndavar glanced at Eragon's face, meeting his eyes and holding them. "You, perhaps. But this is no longer my battle. Dead boys can't fight."

"Men," Eragon said sternly. "Dead _men._ If you're still a boy, after all we've been through, then Rune's a dove and I'm a frog. Besides, you aren't dead yet."

Súndavar gave a little snorting laugh. Eragon couldn't tell if it was at the comment about frogs and doves, or at the sentiment that he was indeed still among the living.

Eragon touched his back, then wondered if the movement seemed…strange. Boys, men, whichever they were, didn't usually touch one another, especially not to comfort. But he didn't take his hand away. "Súndavar, you're a fool and perhaps a coward, but I honestly think that you and I together could fell the King and restore peace. Even if we must do it through trickery, I think we could."

Súndavar glanced at Eragon. Both boys noticed uncomfortably that he hadn't protested about Eragon's hand on his back. They scooted a little farther away from one another. Eragon's hand returned to his lap.

Súndavar shrugged, as if shrugging the awkward moment away. He shook his head, to clear his thoughts, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"By and by, you really should do something about your hair," Eragon mentioned. "It's practically past your shoulders."

"I like it long," Súndavar said carelessly. "But you can cut it, if you want." He didn't seem to care either way.

Eragon took out a dagger from his belt. Súndavar caught his hand. "No shorter than my chin, mind you," he growled. "And no bangs or anything girly like that. I like it in my eyes."

"As you wish," Eragon grumbled. He knew better than to try something smart and make Súndavar angry with the haircut.

But it was awfully tempting.

When Súndavar's hair had been cut – once again it framed his face with a look that reminded Eragon of raven feathers blown in the wind – he shook his head again. "I'd look in the mirror," he said. "But then I'd be dissatisfied, and hurt you. So I think I'll just pretend to myself you did a good job."

"It looks nice," Eragon said. He grinned. "It's too short to be pulled into a braid now, so at least you won't be mistaken for a girl."

Súndavar growled at him, but laughed, glancing at himself in the mirror despite what he had said. His hair didn't look bad.

"In any case," he said. "I think I might ask Rune to free me again tomorrow. I told her I wouldn't, but it's what I want."

"You want to die?"

"I want my debt to be repaid," he said with a shrug. "I can't be truly…_whole_ until it is. I'm a slave to the blood I owe."

Eragon thought for a moment. It was beyond him why Súndavar would want such, but he couldn't help but to ask the natural question that came next. "Would you want to be buried, then?"

"Burned."

"Oh. Why? Only criminals are burned. Riders are buried."

Súndavar shrugged. "I began in flames, and so shall I end," he said. "I'd want my ashes scattered in a garden, I think. With roses. Maybe a little plaque, or something, _in memory_, or such."

"Mmm. I want to be buried, when I die. With Saphira's body. Because we'll die together."

Súndavar chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I suppose. If I die, Slate won't die. We're too far apart for that." He shook out his hair, as if testing how it felt to have it off his neck. He seemed a bit sad at the fact that he wasn't close to his dragon, yet happy at the same time that that disconnection would not be Slate's undoing. "Besides, I'd make him live. Force him. I still love him, you know."

"I know."

Súndavar yawned. "Sooner or later, Rune will let me go," he said. "I just have to keep asking." He seemed content to do such, content to wait until his promise to Rune had been fulfilled and he could die in peace – die with a feeling of accomplishment.

"Are you afraid, of death? When you…repay?"

Súndavar glanced at Eragon, then frowned. "No." he paused. "Yes. But I know it's for the best. And I think, even if our _life_ is lost, like Oromis said, our memory goes on. To the Vault. I think I could be happy there. And when you and Rune joined me there, you could tell me what happened to everyone. It wouldn't be so bad, really."

Eragon nodded, but felt tears rising to his eyes. How could Súndavar talk like that? Talk as if his life meant nothing? As if he was nothing more than a thing, a thing to be bought, repaid, broken?

"Don't cry," Súndavar said, eyes softer than ever. "It's my path. The one I've chosen. I may be insane for choosing it, but it's my right, isn't it?"

"Rune will never let you just _die_."

Súndavar shrugged. "Then I won't. Until Rune says. I love her, you know. But I think she'll let me, when she sees it's not just guilt or shame or hatred that makes me choose so."

"What is it, then?"

"Duty, I guess. It's how my destiny goes. Something I can just feel inside."

Eragon frowned. "Súndavar, you are the strangest person I've ever met in my life." With that, he smiled, punched Súndavar in the shoulder, and left the room. Quite a bit more confused as when he had gone in.

oooooooooooooooooooo

"I won't let him, so it's not an issue."

Eragon nodded, but Rune still paced the room. Leon and Luné were asleep in their cradle, cuddled together.

"I…I think you should let him decide," Eragon said, hesitantly. "It should be his choice. You…you know?"

Rune's eyes flashed. "No, it shouldn't. He's being stupid."

"I don't think he'll feel better until his debt is repaid."

"He won't feel better after it is, either, because he'll be dead. Besides, now that I'm not pregnant, I've been thinking about…" she trailed off and blushed, blinking doe eyes at Eragon. "Well, you know. With Sún. I did with you, after all."

Eragon shrugged. It hurt, a little, to think of Rune and Súndavar like that, but he pushed the feeling carefully away, locking it in a corner of his mind to be thought about later.

"It's only fair."

Eragon bit his lip. "Rune, I know that you like to say that you love us equally, but…don't you think, if you did, you'd _talk_ to him more? Kiss him? Maybe even give him what he wants?"

"You mean let him die."

"Yes. I think you're being a bit selfish."

Rune frowned. "Eragon, it's not every day one of your best friends in the entire world comes to you asking to kill himself. I'm doing the very best I can."

"He doesn't want to kill himself," Eragon said, shaking his head. "All he wants is for the blood he spilled to be repaid. He doesn't _want_ to die, but he feels…he needs to."

"Martyrdom is not something Súndavar is suited for."

Eragon sighed, exasperated. "Rune? Look at it from his point of view. Would you want to be bound as a slave to something you owe?"

"He owes nothing!" she barked. "The man is dead and gone. It's sad, but it's true. Súndavar dying will not bring him back! It will just make me sad, and angry, and give Galbatorix more satisfaction. No."

Eragon sighed. "Eventually he'll just ask Galbatorix to push him out a window and call it an accident," he said stubbornly. "He isn't _whole_. He's done something wrong, and he wants to make it right. A twisted sort of right, but it's what he bloody _wants_."

Rune sat down on the bed and began to cry.

"Don't be a baby," Eragon grumbled, angry she was being selfish and unable to see Súndavar's point of view. "How I ever learned to love you, I don't know. You're self-centered…and…" he groped for another insult, but found none.

"Well, if I'm selfish, then you're pathetic," Rune shot back. "You don't get it, Eragon! You don't get it! _Every single day_ I try to do what's best for you and Súndavar!"

"But you won't let _him_ decide what's best for himself! It's his life!"

Rune let out a little shriek of annoyance. "Why are you so idiotic?" she screamed. "I love him! It's only human I'm not going to let him repay some idiot debt he thinks he owes with his own life-blood!"

Luné and Leon woke, and began to cry.

Eragon's voice caught in his throat. Since when did they scream at one another? Instead of shooting something back, he stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.

He ran straight into Ieran. The Shade didn't flinch.

"You shouldn't scream at her so."

"Her fault," he mumbled. "She's being strange. It should be Súndavar's choice what to do with his life. Besides, it's not suicide."

"No," Ieran nodded. "You're right about that. But you should forgive Rune for being scared to let him go. She doesn't realize that he no longer belongs in this world. His soul cries for the peace of eternal slumber."

"Tell her that."

Ieran sighed. "She'll see it, in time. But time is short." The Shade cleared his throat, looked Eragon straight in the eye, and smiled. "One week," he said. "We have a week to kill His Lordship."

"Why a week?"

"Because, I decided that's what it will be. We aren't trying. I'm going to help, if I can, but it mainly falls to your shoulders."

Eragon wanted to crawl into a whole and die. With a best friend who was more dead than alive, a Shade who had _decided_ the biggest conflict since the Dragon-Elf wars would be resolved in the next seven days, and a sweetheart who now thought him the lowliest being on the face of the earth, he didn't think things could get much worse.

_Now is the part where it starts raining,_ he grumbled. However, it didn't. Instead, a shrill shriek sounded from the air. A bombshell of feathers landed on Ieran's shoulder.

The Shade flinched as Tawnyclaw's talons sunk deep into the muscle.

_Dragon! _the bird shrieked. _Dragon, dragon, dragon!_

"Slow!" Eragon cried. "What are you talking about?" The funny feeling that accompanied talking to the hawk had not left.

_Dragon, _he said again. _Dragon dies. Dragon screams. Dragon tells Tawnyclaw "go. Go. Tell Shadow-boy. Bad-blood boy. Tell of Dragon. Tell of Dragon blood. Tell." Tawnyclaw flies. Flies. Flies. Wings ache. Tawnyclaw tells._

Eragon stared at him. "Slate? What's wrong with Slate?"

_Dragon dies! Dragon!_

"He's dead?" Eragon felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. _No!_

_Not Dead. Dies. Dies. Dies. Blood, much. Much, much. Wings torn, claws broke. Scales scattered. Tawnyclaw Mate stays, sings death-songs. Hopes._

Eragon looked at Ieran. "Get Súndavar," he ordered. _Saphira? Saphira! Get to the Hold. __**Now!**_

The dragon detected the distress in her Rider. Moments later, she landed in the Hold.

Eragon saddled her quickly. Súndavar entered with Ieran.

"Get on," he ordered his friend. "We're going to look for Slate. Tawnyclaw says he's hurt."

Súndavar mounted behind Eragon quickly, determinedly.

Saphira took off. The hawk rose from Ieran's shoulder – talons covered in Shade's blood – and beat his wings to catch up.

_By tree, _he called. _To Sunset! Sunset! Fly! All Haste!_

Eragon bit his lip. _Saphira, don't wait for Tawnyclaw. Go West._

_I heard him,_ the dragon said. For her, more was on the line than just Súndavar's dragon. Slate was her love. Her mate. Her wings beat faster than ever before.

When they found him, it was a sorry sight indeed. The dragon was ripped half to shreds. His wings had been torn and pieces of them were scattered about. His tail ended in a bloody stump, a good two feet from where the tip should have been. It seemed he had lost an eye in the battles as well. A hawk with pure white feathers and black eyes watched over him fiercely, crooning.

Súndavar's scream caught in his throat as he looked upon the sight. He stumbled from Saphira's back, blindly half-crawling, half-running to the dragon's side. So close, agony swept over him in waves. Both Slate's pain, and his own, internal.

Slate lifted his head slightly at their arrival. Súndavar continued to lay in the grass.

_You came,_ he said. He tried to nuzzle Saphira, but instead laid his head down in the grass once more.

_I would fly a thousand leagues to find you,_ Saphira said stubbornly. _Now get up. They're only surface wounds. _She nudged him desperately. _Up! You aren't trying. Think of Topaz and Flint and Synge!_

Slate glanced at her, saw the desperation in her eyes. He nuzzled her, but did not try to get up. _Our children will have you, _he said. _And they will have their Riders._

_No! They will have you as well. Not in a thousand years will you die. Our passion is too short lived for Hope to steal you from me so. Now __**get up**__. Fight._

Slate looked at her with one golden eye. Instead of doing as she said, he moved his nose over to Súndavar.

_I always loved you,_ he said. _Even if I was disappointed. Sometimes I hated myself, because I loved you so._

The boy stopped groaning in pain, and lay still. Then he embraced his dragon's snout, caressing it tenderly. _I love you too, Slate._ There were tears in his eyes, but they didn't yet fall.

The dragon let out a tiny, weak breath of smoke. His good eye turned to look at Eragon. _You are a brave Rider,_ he said. _Treat Saphira well. Love her._

"I promise."

Moments after that passed painfully slowly, as Slate breathed slower and slower. Every beat of his heart was weaker than the last. There seemed to be a deep-rooted knowing in the dragon, a space that was deeper than sadness, broader than fear, and more spacious than anger. He knew his fate, accepted it.

_Do not grieve,_ he said finally, quietly. _It is how my story was written._

Finally, Slate gave a long sigh, and laid still. His single good eye glossed quietly over, closing as if on its own will. Súndavar could no longer feel the dragon's breath against his chest. The boy screamed, and curled against his bloody underbelly, feeling the dragonfire that was cooling beneath his scales. The tears fell now, streaming down his cheeks. Saphira gave a shriek of agony as Slate's fire went out completely.

_Dead._


	23. Pretty Little Insanity

**Author's Note: Okay. Uhm…I've gotten a few reviews and PMs about the babies' names. Like where they came from. And why they're 'weird'. Well, it mostly has to do with what they're going to become. Leon has one of Saphira's eggs hatch for him – a boy, who looks a great deal like Slate. His name is Flint – and becomes a mighty warrior and all that. His crest/symbol becomes a lion, like Rune's is a dove and snake. As for Luné, she becomes an enchantress. Well, magic user. Not an herbalist, though. She falls madly in love with Freoh (you guys remember him, right?). Her crest becomes a moon. I was going to name her Fay, like "Morgan le Fey" in the legends of King Arthur, because it means 'magical' or something of that sort, but I liked Luné better. Anyways. Yes. Adios! Hearts, Gatita (Little Cat. In Spanish. :) )**

**Ps) Uhmmm…Sexy Weasel? Rune isn't fourteen, she's sixteen. Just so you know. Plus, in that sort of time period, girls got married as young as thirteen. Basically as soon as they could have children. So it isn't so weird that Eragon and Rune are parents. :)**

One can never know true loss, not until half of your soul is ripped screaming from you, and thrown unto a black oblivion. One can never know true pain, not until a piece of your heart is torn, beating, from your chest, and cast into eternal darkness.

One can never know true agony, until you watch, powerless, as both soul and heart are crushed, beneath the crimson blade of death.

Súndavar knew loss. He knew pain, and he knew agony. In his depthless well of despair, none of his companions could convince him to do anything but lay in the darkness. He refused to eat, or drink, and did not sleep at all. It seemed as though with each passing moment, his sadness grew, threatening to consume.

"He'll kill himself, if he doesn't eat something," Rune said softly to Eragon on the third day. She rocked Leon in her arms thoughtfully, stroking his dark hair. The child stared up at her with bright, intense eyes. They were beginning to turn brown, like Eragon's.

Luné's had lightened to the palest shade of blue Rune had ever seen, with touches of navy just around the edges. Eragon held the girl tightly, as if afraid he would drop her. Both children had sensed the change in their parents' manners – neither had cooed or even smiled much in the last few days – and had been unnaturally quiet.

"He needs time," Eragon said. Saphira was sleeping nearby, tail curled tightly around her eggs. She had guarded them with a ferocity that surprised everyone. They were the one thing of her own that she had left to hold on to, Eragon supposed.

They had burned Slate's body where it laid, not wanting to disturb the place of his final slumber. His ashes Saphira had carried back, and were now scattered among the rose blossoms and lemon trees of the little garden where the two dragons had first begun to toy with one another. The memorial service had been simple – a few words from Eragon, and a short speech from Saphira. Súndavar had refused to be present.

The boy had locked his door tightly with magic, and even Eragon could find no way to open it. He had tried all manners of spells, but nothing worked any better than the last.

Ieran entered the Hold. The Shade was dressed in black and gold, which contrasted brilliantly with his hair and maroon eyes. His stride was confident and fluid. In all, he reminded Rune of a poisonous snake – beautiful and deadly.

He sat next to the others, eyes moving from Rune, to Leon, to Eragon, and finally settling on Luné. He smiled. Eragon handed her to him, and the two stared at one another.

Luné smiled back at the Shade.

A rush of wind at their backs disrupted the tender moment. Saphira's head snapped up, and she hissed.

Murtagh and Thorn had landed in the Hold. The dragon's gold eyes glittered. Murtagh dismounted, and strode over to the group. There was silence for a moment.

"It would seem we're back to three riders in the world," Murtagh said. His voice was soft and almost seemed mournful, but there was an edge in it that Rune had come to expect in all his dealings with her. He would never forgive her for bedding his brother, it seemed, although she never had had any commitment to him at all.

"Two," Eragon said gently. "For Galbatorix is not fit to bear such title."

The brothers stared at one another for a moment, and Murtagh nodded. He glanced at the baby in Eragon's arms, then bit his lip. "May I hold him?" he asked. Eragon smiled a tiny bit, and got up to hand him the child.

As the party conversed, quite another conversation was going on across the Hold. Thorn had curled at Saphira's side, and was crooning comforting things in her ear.

_I've never had a mate, _he said, _so I do not know your pain. But you have your eggs, do you not? Some comfort to you, they must be._

The blue dragon stared into his eyes, then away. She laid her head down on the ground and let a sad sigh spill forth smoke. Thorn started purring softly, laying his head by her.

_Slate would want you to live on, _he said. _He would not want you to live your life in sorrow for a love lost. Come, get up. We'll go for a fly._

Saphira didn't move. She curled her tail tighter around her eggs and gave a dragon sob.

Thorn got up, and unwrapped her tail from around them with a claw. He nudged the three glistening jewels – one green and laced with black, one white with gold, and one the color of wine – away from her.

_They will not hatch any quicker with you brooding over them,_ he said. _Come. We'll catch a stag. The exercise would do you good. You haven't been eating._

Saphira blew smoke.

Thorn was losing his patience, but it didn't show. He nudged her again. _You've lost weight, Saphira. You wouldn't want to get so thin that Eragon couldn't ride you, would you? _He leaned against her, pushing her to her feet. _Spread your wings. Let's fly._

There was little fight left in Saphira, at least for the moment, so she obeyed, lifting her wings and beating them. Thorn turned to the others, winked in a way that reminded Rune of Slate, and took off after her.

"It'll be good for her," Eragon said softly. "To get out."

"Thorn will take care of her," Murtagh said resolvedly. He stroked Leon's hair a little. The boy had fallen asleep. "No harm will come to her."

"If whatever attacked—" Rune began, but she broke off. Súndavar's door had opened.

The boy looked a mess. He hadn't changed his tunic – Slate's blood still stained it – and there were deep bags under his eyes. His tunic hung off him, very loose. He had lost weight, and looked as if he hadn't slept.

Rune got up and ran to him. She hung on his arm, pressing against him, staring up at his face for some sort of sign. He barely noticed her.

"Have you come out for anything in particular, Súndavar, or just for the fellowship?" Ieran asked.

Súndavar didn't respond. Instead, he fixed his eyes on Eragon. "I'll help you," he said. "Galbatorix must fall, for what he has done." He took a breath and stared at the ground. "I want him dead. I want his head to be hung on a stake and his eyes to be cut out. His heart with be torn from his chest and cast into the sea."

Eragon blinked. He decided that now was not the time to counsel Súndavar on the unethical aspects of mutilating a corpse for naught more than hatred.

"Why do blame the king for Slate's death?" Murtagh asked.

Súndavar cringed visibly at the words _Slate's death_, drawing away with almost a hiss. Rune saw his jaw clench, and his hands made fists. She kissed him gently on the cheek. Instead of calming down, he scowled and ripped his arm away from her.

"I blame him because it is his fault!" Súndavar shouted with a growl. "Everything is his fault!"

He spun on his heels and ran back into his room. The door flung shut behind him. This time, Eragon heard the spell he used to lock it. It was so simple, he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.

_Keep them out._

He stepped forward, placed his hand on the door, and whispered something none of them heard. _I am not one of them._

It was true. **They** could be anyone. Súndavar hadn't specified.

The door swung open easily. Súndavar shrieked at the light that streamed through the open door, and something clattered to the floor.

Eragon noticed that the blood that covered the room was too much to be just Slate's. He shut the door gently, and whispered a spell to light the lamp. Then he pulled open the curtains.

Súndavar hissed at the sunlight. His hands flew up to cover his eyes. Eragon gaped at his sword hand.

The palm was a mess. Covered in blood, it looked as though Súndavar had been trying to strip the skin off it. Eragon saw the dagger on the floor, and bent to pick it up.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. The other boy glanced at his hand, then pulled it behind his back quickly.

Eragon sat down next to him. "Súndavar, may I see it?"

The boy growled, but produced his hand.

Eragon realized the problem. Súndavar's gedwëy ignasia shone under the blood. The boy had been trying to get rid of it.

"Heal your hand," he ordered. "It'll only come back, and your hand will be useless. How do you suppose you'll use a sword?"

Súndavar shook his head. "I'll not heal it!" he howled. He sounded more animal than human. He turned away and cowered from the light.

_He's gone insane, _Eragon thought. He bit his lip. "I'll heal it then. You can wear a glove, to hide the argetlam, if you want. Give me your hand."

Without turning around, Súndavar produced the hand for Eragon's treatment.

"Wiess heill," Eragon ordered, and the skin sealed over his wound. Súndavar growled again, low and wolfish. The other Rider let him go, and Súndavar snatched his hand away.

He howled something Eragon couldn't understand, and hid under the bed.

Eragon left the room, letting him to himself. Súndavar hissed like a snake as the door closed.

"He's insane," the young man said. "He's gone stark, raving mad."

"He was never entirely sane," Ieran snorted. "Don't worry. It will pass."

Rune stepped towards the door, but Eragon grabbed her arm and held her tightly. "No. It's best he's left alone."

Rune's lips pursed angrily at being bossed, but she nodded and sat down next to Murtagh again.

"I don't think we should leave him alone," Murtagh said. "I don't much know him, but letting anyone dwell in a pit of despair and insanity can't be beneficial."

"We'll give him another day," Ieran said. "Tomorrow, Rune can bring him out to the gardens. Take care not to pass the lemon trees."

Rune nodded. It was already getting dark. "Then may tomorrow come at Godspeed," she said. "Because every moment he slips farther from us."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was not easy coaxing Súndavar from his room the next morning. Eragon made him change his tunic, but he practically dressed the other boy. Súndavar was not uncooperative, but neither did he do anything to hurry along the process.

When Eragon pushed him out of his room, the boy hissed at the light. He ducked back. "My glove!" he howled. Eragon retrieved the thing, and Súndavar slipped it on his hand.

As soon as the dragonmark was out of sight, some of the wildness in Súndavar's eyes faded. He blinked, as if to clear his mind, and shook out his hair like a dog. Then he took Rune's hand obediently.

She brought him to a small courtyard, with a lovely fountain and a gazebo. The water _splished_ and _splashed_ over the rocks like magic. Súndavar didn't seem to notice.

They sat down together on a bench. Rune scooted very close to Súndavar, but he frowned, as if confused.

"Aren't you warm enough?" he asked, shrinking away from her a little. "Why are you touching me?"

Rune blinked, but scooted away. There was a silence.

"I'm sorry about Slate," Rune whispered. "I've been awfully selfish, thinking…"

Súndavar howled at the mention of his dragon's name. Rune jumped in surprise.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "Calm down!"

He blinked slowly, once again shook his head, as it to clear it, and smiled. "Sorry. Just a little jumpy, I guess. I haven't slept in a while."

"It's been days. You should eat something."

"Not hungry."

Súndavar stood and began pacing, his eyes pits of despair. However, the wild, animal madness had faded from the twin pools of evergreen, and Rune thought that this was a good sign indeed.

They said nothing for a good while, Súndavar continuing to pace, and Rune sitting quietly.

"I am very sorry," she said again. "I've been so selfish."

"It's not your fault he's…" he choked and sputtered. "Elsewhere."

"No. But…I should have let you go."

Súndavar's eyes flashed, and he gave her a sliver of a lopsided grin. "Naw." He shrugged. "You were right. If I was dead, who would there be to avenge…the Lost?"

Rune just sighed and touched his cheek.

He flinched away. "Please don't touch me."

Rune frowned gently. "But I always…"

Súndavar looked at her innocently. "Always what?"

"You…you used to like it, when I'd touch you."

Súndavar blinked, then frowned. "I did, didn't I?" He shrugged.

"Yes. We were going to become lovers, remember?"

"We were?" Súndavar looked bewildered. All but Slate and revenge seemed to have slipped his mind.

Rune pursed her lips and got off the bench. "What's wrong with you?" she asked him over her shoulder as she walked away. "I don't think I know you anymore."

Then she was gone, leaving Súndavar behind. He shrugged – a portion of his mind reminded him that he loved her, and should run after, but the majority of it was wrapped in thoughts of vengeance and loss.

He knew he should follow.

But right now, he simply didn't want to.

Besides, then she would touch him again. Her fingers on his cheek had felt strangely unpleasant, like she was holding hot coals to his skin. He wasn't sure he wanted her to do it again.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"He barely even remembers me!" Rune growled. "He barely even – "

"Shut up," Eragon dismissed her bluntly. "We have bigger problems than the fact that Súndavar doesn't want to sleep with you."

Rune sniffed at him angrily, but she knew he was right. "I don't want to bed him either," she shot. "He's just being an idiot."

"Think of what he's lost, and say that again."

Rune couldn't.

Ieran watched the two quarrelling with a level eye. When they fell silent, he smiled. "I wonder what everyone thinks," he said. "It's rather odd that you all just…_disappear_."

Rune blinked, then swore.

"The Varden!" Eragon cried. He repeated the word Rune had used, hitting himself in the forehead.

Ieran smiled. "You should write to them," he said. "Tawnyclaw would deliver it."

The very next morning, a hawk set out.

There was a letter in his talons.


	24. Read Aloud the Play of Truth

**Author's Note: Hey everyone. I'm going to rant, okay? You know something? I love reviews, right? But there's ONE type of review I CAN'T STAND. It's when someone tries to THREATEN me into doing something. Not "If you don't update I'm going to sic the evil Moose of Dooooooom on you" or anything like that (winks to my girls who do that, I love you guys!) I mean things like "If this happens, I'm going to stop reading" Ugh! Do not people realize that this is my story and I'm going to do what I want with it? Hopefully the ending will please everyone, but if it doesn't, I AM the one writing this. These are my characters, who live the life I give them to live.**

**--**

**Sorry for the ranting. What are you doing even reading this? Read the story! That's what you're here for! ;) Hearts, Kittie**

**Also. The children? I'm giving the rights to them to my dear ****saphiraemrys.**** She's expressed interest in writing a story about them, and I'm going to let her. ;) If she still wants to. Love you, Kayla**

**ooo**

_**Lady Nasuada,**_

_**I'm sorry if my absence has caused any type of panic or sadness on the part of the Varden or yourself. I cannot believe how careless of me it was to not write the minute I arrived here…**_

Nasuada stared thoughtfully at the letter in her hands, reading it for the third time since it had arrived. _Eragon was alright!_ She breathed once again in relief. In the year that had passed since the Riders' disappearance, she had grown used to the fact that he was dead. The Varden had begun working around it, establishing new plans, storing up resources. Finding out that the Riders were alive and fighting was like finding a diamond that had been lost.

Speaking of diamonds…Nasuada glanced at her ring finger. Orrin's engagement ring glowed in the light, and her heart warmed. The diamond in it was small, almost not there, but so beautiful.

_We have better ways to spend the kingdom's money than a fancy wedding, _he had said, blushing slightly and laughing. _Besides, I think it's pretty, isn't it?_

And it was. The tiny diamond reminded her of their love, how it had started out so small, so small that indeed that she hadn't even noticed it was there, until it had blossomed into an affair the kingdom would never forget.

Although they hadn't gone to bed together yet – Nasuada was looking forward to the wedding night – both knew their love was as deep and strong as the ocean, neverending. They would live out the rest of their days together – ruling one people.

The hawk in the window screeched. _Write! Return! Tawnyclaw fly return!_

Nasuada glanced at him. "Of course," she said. "You don't want to rest before you bring a letter back?" She could see the wear in the hawk – the way his head drooped tiredly, the lack of bright glint in his eyes.

Tawnyclaw shook his head. _Sunrise, sunset, ten and four. Long time flight. No rest, be late._

A pattering at the door made Nasuada look up. She opened it, and a cat slunk around her legs into the room. He jumped onto the sill next to Tawnyclaw. In his jaws was a rabbit, its neck broken.

"Solemnbum!" Nasuada breathed a sigh of relief. "Tell him he cannot fly again without rest."

Solemnbum glanced at her, then set the rabbit down. _Eat, _he bid. _It will take a night for the letters you are to deliver to be ready anyways. You will sleep warm in the witch's tent, with myself._

Tawnyclaw flapped his wings. _Rest not! _He cried. _Princess, Rider…_

_I'll take care of him, _Solemnbum told Nasuada. He coaxed the hawk off the sill, picking the rabbit up again. _He'll rest. Don't worry._

When both the animals had left the room, Nasuada sunk into her chair. She glanced over the letter again. There were several points that were most interesting. First of all, the children.

_**Twins, Nasuada! We've named them Leon and Luné, and they're just wonderful.**_

Second, the eggs.

_**Three of them. Saphira stands watch over them almost constantly. They're all she has left of Slate.**_

Slate.

That was the worst of the news. Not just for the Varden as a whole, but for Nasuada personally. She had liked the dragon, while she knew him. He was cocky and had a sense of humor.

_**Súndavar's taking it rather badly. He's unstable, at best, frequently flying into fits of rage. I believe these will pass, but who can know?**_

A light knock sounded on the door, and before Nasuada could answer, Orrin entered the room. She waved the letter and smiled. The King of Surda settled into the comfortable chair next to her.

"Good news and bad news," she said. "From Eragon."

"Good news first," Orrin smiled. "Then I won't feel guilty about being happy about it."

"Saphira's had eggs, Eragon and Rune have twins, _they're alive,_ and Captain Shay's managed to find herself a husband. They're in Galbatorix's castle at the moment, awaiting the right time to make a move. They're accompanied by a Shade by the name of Ieran – Súndavar's father. Apparently he's quite devoted to the cause, though Eragon can only guess at the reasons why."

Orrin grinned. "Shay's married? I hadn't guessed that would happen in a thousand years. To whom?"

"An elf by the name of Vanir of House Haldthin."

"The pretty boy who beat the living daylights out of Eragon on his first visit?"

"The very same."

Orrin laughed. "Now that's a match made in heaven. Two people as stubborn as oxen." He kissed her forehead. "So what's the bad news?"

Nasuada's face darkened. "We've lost someone. Slate. They found him ripped to shreds on the outskirts of Uru'baen. Súndavar's nearly gone crazy with grief."

Orrin went silent, and the laughter was banished from his features. His eyebrows knitted together.

"Eragon is sure they'll be able to fell the King despite," Nasuada continued softly, "But it's a personal loss for everyone."

Orrin nodded gently. "We should do something, in his honor."

"When the war is over," Nasuada said, shaking her head. "Right now, he is but a casualty among hundreds of others."

"As you wish." Orrin stood up. "You should compose a letter back. Give them encouragement. Did they mention needing anything?"

"No. If only there was a salve to heal a broken heart."

"Perhaps there is. Get their friends to write. Roran to Eragon, Katrina and Angela to Rune. I'll write to Shay. Is there anyone to write to Súndavar? Perhaps that blind girl."

"She died, almost a year and a half ago."

Orrin blinked. "Oh." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Well…he has no other friends?"

"Rune and Eragon are with him."

"Then send the Varden's condolences. Get everyone you can to write a message. A small message, and their signature."

"Half of them cannot read or write. And Tawnyclaw cannot bring back a case of letters."

Orrin made a face. "Fine. But do something of the sort. They should see that we are _all_ with them. Surda, and the Varden, and Orik, and Arya, and…everyone."

"I'll do what I can."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ieran jerked awake. The sheen of sweat on his body made the blankets stick uncomfortably, as if they were trying to smother him. The bad dream faded away quickly as he lit a candle. The Shade yawned and stretched out like a cat, feeling the pull in every vertebra in his spine. He rolled off his divan and shook the sleep from his eyes.

There was a small knock on the stone wall beside his doorway, which was hung with fabric.

"Ieran? Are you awake?"

Ieran blinked, fully awake now. "Don't come in quite yet Caitlin. Just a moment."

He stumbled into his pants, before opening the curtain. His red-wine eyes flicked over her, and he blinked. "What can I do for you?"

"I can't sleep."

_Funny_, the Shade thought. His own sleep had been troubled as well. "Dreams?"

"Not exactly. I'm worried about everyone."

Ieran bit his lip and nodded. "We'll take a walk," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder gently. "How about the gardens?"

The girl nodded, and Ieran let his hand fall from her shoulder. "How's David?"

"Grumpy, of late. I said I wasn't leaving the castle."

Ieran pursed his lips. "You know, the two of you should move into the Hold. You needn't stay in the slave's chambers any longer."

Caitlin shrugged. "I don't think there's room in the Hold."

"There's three empty rooms."

The girl blushed and shrugged again.

"You aren't afraid of it, are you?"

She shook her head. "It's not that. I'd just worry I'd...I don't know."

Ieran smiled at her. "Don't worry, I understand." They walked in silence for a while, until they reached a door that opened above their heads. Scattered remnants of stairs laid on the floor.

"I'll give you a boost," Ieran said. Before Caitlin could protest, as any girl would for fear of seeming heavy, the Shade lifted her easily over his head. She unlatched the door and swung it open, before climbing out. Ieran jumped, gripped the edge, and easily pulled himself up as well.

Caitlin was suddenly and uncomfortably aware that he was still shirtless. Not that it was a bad thing – Ieran's body was catlike and elegant, well muscled and hairless, beautiful by anyone's standards – but it was certainly…well, just uncomfortable.

Ieran seemed to notice her discomfort and laughed kindly. "We can go back, if you want."

"No, it's fine." The girl hid a laugh behind her hand, awkwardness dispelled by something in Ieran's voice.

"Then let's be off. There's a rather nice fountain on the east side that you might like. Or the waterfall that feeds the koi pond."

"I'm not really dressed for swimming."

"A girl's dress for swimming is no dress at all, so I suppose you're right." The Shade laughed. "Why not the library then?"

Going inside would give Ieran an opportunity to don a shirt, so Caitlin readily agreed. It wasn't so much that she minded, but that if Rune or David happened to look out a window, they would certainly think ill. So the two headed for the library.

When they reached the gilded door, Ieran pushed it open. "What would you like to look at?"

Caitlin thought for a moment. "I've read about most things that interest me," she said. "But maybe we could just pull something off a shelf? Then read it aloud? Just for fun."

Ieran nodded and closed his eyes. He plucked a book off the nearest shelf. Opening his eyes, he read the cover. "_Works of Dragons Eld._"

"Sounds like Dragon poetry," Caitlin commented. "Read some!"

Ieran laughed again – something he seemed to enjoy doing quite a bit – and cleared his throat. He opened the book to the middle, and began to read.

"_Amidst the light of breaking dawn,_

_Scale and claw we give to thee,_

_Wind and Fire, our makers yon,_

_Of you we'll ever be."_

He faked a yawn. "I'm not one for poetry," he said with a grin. "Seems a bit stuffy for me."

Caitlin picked something off her own shelf. "_Battles of Yesteryear – the Great War._"

"That sounds more like it!" Ieran was grinning now.

Caitlin laughed with him, and picked a place to begin her narrative.

"…_The battle of Freohr Peak was one of the bloodiest in history. Two hundred and fourty three dragons fell upon that night, and three hundred and two elves. Lasting from dawn to dusk to dawn again, the battle was fought at the base of the mountain in the center of Hadarac. In the end, the elves came away victorious, bearing the head of the dragon's leader Valdin'mirac. Upon the dragon's retreat…_"

Caitlin stopped. "I can't go on. It's too awful. I think I may be sick at the thought of another severed dragon head."

Ieran nodded. "Very well. I'll choose something. Perhaps a bit less gory."

He ran quickly to the back of the library, and pulled out a dusty book off a forgotten shelf. He blew the grime from its cover before reading. "_Tristam and Isolte – a Retelling._" The author's name below was too faded to be read.

"I've heard of that story!" Caitlin said. "It's a romance. I've read the original novel. Read it!"

Ieran hefted the heavy book onto a nearby table and opened it. "_A Play in three Acts_," he read. "_Act one: Across the Seas."_

The story told of a young man, wounded from battle and thought dead, whose funeral boat was let loose in the sea. He drifted to a Kingdom far away, and was found by the daughter of the King there. A heated love affair followed, until, in the end, the girl's father found out. Sick with rage at his daughter being so defiled by any man, he came into the young man's room to kill him. When he had sunk his dagger into his heart, who appeared but the girl herself?

Ieran paused in his reading when he came to this part. "It's almost morning," he yawned. "Certainly we should—"

Caitlin shook her head. "You're so brilliant at reading aloud!" she cried. "Please, just finish it."

Ieran sighed and nodded. "_Says Isolte: No! This bone of my bone hath stolen from me the one thing I have loved! May I share in his fate, for without him, life is not worth living out!"_

Ieran paused again. "This looks like a spell written here."

Caitlin moved closer to him and peered at it. "What does it say?"

The Shade squinted. "Closest I can tell…"May our hearts be one, may we die together, you and I, The Prince of Heart."

"Prince of Heart?"

"Perhaps it was his true name," Ieran shrugged. "You can't directly spell someone else without it."

"So that's the end?"

"Yes." Ieran pointed at the word at the bottom of the page. "_Fin._ It means The End."

"Oh." Caitlin yawned. "That was a good play."

"It had better have been. It took me four hours to read aloud. It's sunrise." The Shade got up and stretched.

"Ieran, what's this?"

He looked at where she was pointing. She had turned the page of the play book, and was staring at something behind it. A page had been ripped from the book's spine.

"Someone tore out the last page."

"So? The story is finished."

"What if it told about the author?" Caitlin asked. "I'd like to know who it was."

"Then the author obviously didn't want anyone knowing who he was." Ieran shrugged and closed the book. "He scratched out his name on the cover as well."

"But the leather was distressed," Caitlin said. She wasn't sure exactly why she was so curious, but it seemed insanely important to find who had written the play. "Can't we find a way to read it?"

Ieran pursed his lips, then nodded. He opened the front cover of the book, and looked at the leather thoughtfully. The indention from the front cover was a raised mark now.

"Find me a piece of thin parchment, and some chalk," he said. Caitlin ran to obey. When she did, Ieran placed the parchment over the marks, and lightly coloured over it with the chalk.

The words became clear.

_Trisam and Isolte – a Retelling_

_As told by Lyc n a an Al ss_

"Four letters are missing!" Caitlin cried, upset. "They're too faded."

Ieran shook his head. "No, look. There should be a letter after the an, and what is the only letter after an that makes a word?"

"D. And."

"Right…so it's by two people. They are both names. What names can you think of with an AL and an SS?"

"Alyss. Súndavar screamed at you about a girl named Alyss once."

Ieran nodded and bit his lip. "Lycna. Lyc…Lycona. Rune's mother's name was Lycona."

"So the play was written by Sun's mother and Rune's mother?"

"It would seem so." Ieran frowned gently. "Now I'm curious as to the missing page. If it was written by those two, it must have had a purpose."

"We'll show it to the others," Caitlin nodded. "Come on."


	25. Poems

**Author's Note:) Hello. I've gotten some comments about "Tristam and Isolte" just to clear anything up…I know it's a legend, often grouped in with Arthurian legends in general, but the play is going to differ a great deal from the original story. :) It's not the same story, after all. Alagäesia's legends are a probably quite different from ours. Soo….basically what I'm saying is that if I put something into the story of these two that isn't really there, don't murder me. I **_**do**_** know the real story. :) Hearts, Kittie-chan**

"It's so…strange," Rune murmured, turning the book over in her hands. It was close to noon now – Ieran had just finished declaiming the play for a larger audience. "There are so many parallels."

"How so?" Eragon questioned. He had found the play interesting, but didn't see what the fuss was about. It was a story, retold by the mothers of two in their party. "I don't see any. The King's evil, I suppose, but that's it."

"Not in the characters," Rune dismissed, shaking her head. "In the plot. Remember my sleep?"

Eragon nodded. That was one thing not easily forgotten.

"These words – the spell. It's similar. Mine were _my life be bound to Eragon's_."

"Except you don't know my true name."

"I didn't have to. Our purposes were in…whatsit? Agreement. To escape. But here, she used his true name, because he would have obviously rather that she lived. They _were_ in love, after all."

Eragon chewed his lip thoughtfully, nodding. "I suppose it makes sense. But it's doubtless a coincidence – this was written long before. They wouldn't have known what you would say."

"But Lycona knew the outcome!" Rune urged. "Don't you remember the words? _A life may be broken, yet another may start_. Slate's life started, and mine was broken. I think there was another part in there too. About becoming one. But I can't remember."

Ieran was nodding. "She's right. Are there any other similarities?"

Caitlin watched quietly. "There are a few places where the play differs from the story in the book," she said. "Those could be where the meaning is." She took the book from Rune and flipped to a place. "Like here: _Wounded in battle, far off from what he once was. In body and mind, Tristam was ravaged by the gore and death of the war he had seen. A brother he had lost to its hungry rage, and his own sanity was nearly gone_. In the story, it said nothing about a brother. And certainly nothing about mental instability. In the story, he was wounded, but naught more."

Rune pursed her lips. "What we need is the missing page," she said.

"Why is everyone so convinced this has a meaning?"

Everyone turned to look at Súndavar. It was the first understandable thing the boy had said all morning.

"It was written by our mothers," Rune said stubbornly. "Why shouldn't it have a meaning?"

"Because perhaps they were merely bored and had nothing better to do with their time than retell a story."

"It was probably written soon after Sundavar's birth," Ieran said, shaking his head. "That would be when Lycona wrote her prophesy, as well as cast the spell that made Rune unable to perform even the simplest of magics. You probably would have been conceived a month or so prior, Rune."

Shay and Vanir watched quietly. Shay nodded. "Both would have had plenty to do – Lycona would have morning sickness and cravings and sweat a lot and ache all over and…" she trailed off. "Do we happen to have anything sweet on hand?"

Vanir sighed and patted her hand. "Elves don't get morning sickness," he dismissed. "So it wouldn't have been a problem."

Rune snorted. "I'm half elf, and I got it sure enough!"

Ieran cut both off. "It doesn't matter. This has meaning – we all feel it. Even you do, Súndavar."

Súndavar shrugged and was silent.

"Where's David?" Rune asked. "Another head would do us good."

"I'll find him," Vanir offered. He got up and strode quickly away. As soon as he was gone, Shay let out a sigh of relief.

"I wasn't joking about sweets!" she said, getting up. "I'm insanely starving."

Ieran began to laugh.

Shay frowned at him. "What?"

"Strange cravings, aren't they? Sweets when we just ate? Surely you shouldn't be hungry already."

"Well I am."

Súndavar cleared his throat lightly, and they fell silent. He was deathly pale, and shaking. "I think I know," he said softly.

"Know?"

He looked up at them with a blank stare. "I think I know what it means."

Rune frowned and sat down next to him. "What?"

"Tristam. It sounds a good deal like _trisien_, doesn't it?"

Eragon's face paled visibly. "That's a Shade word!" he cried. "Oromis told us not to touch that book! The whole language is cursed, Súndavar!"

"I didn't read Oromis's stupid book, fool," Súndavar hissed. "I just _know_ it." He voice was raspy. "_Trisien. _It means Darkest Hue."

Saphira's head lifted. _What?_

"Darkest Hue. It's a curse of sorts. If something is of the darkest hue, it is corrupt, dangerous, _evil_."

Saphira's eyes widened just a bit. She breathed deeply, and began to sing the lifesong. It seemed forever since she had heard it, but it rolled simply and easily, her voice carrying the tune, her thoughts the words. She stopped when she came to the line that had caught her attention.

_Throne that glints in darkest hue_.

Súndavar shivered as if an invisible force was racing through his body. "Tristam is Galbatorix," he hissed.

Eragon blinked slowly. "Galbatorix lost his dragon. Tristam lost his brother. It makes sense."

"Both were near insane," Caitlin added. "One of the discrepancies between the play and the original."

"If there is a parallel there, there must be others as well. We _need_ that page!"

David and Vanir returned as Ieran finished saying this. David's eyes were glittering dangerously.

"Vanir told me how things stand as we walked," he said. "It would seem we have ourselves a bit of a riddle."

"We've found a parallel between the play and our lives," Rune told him. "Tristam is Galbatorix."

"Tristam dies," David nodded. "That's a good thing, right?"

Súndavar laughed. "A good thing. A good thing!" he howled like a wolf. "It's not a good thing, jester! It's not so easy. Not easy. Not…" he seemed to lose his trail of thought. His eyes went blank for a moment. Then he laughed again, looking almost evil. His voice was low and breathy, a voice of a lover whispering sweet dirty nothings. "Foolish David. We can't simply stake Galbatorix in his sleep. No, no, no. Foolhardy, foolhardy. Silly David."

David looked at him with a mixture of hatred and pity. "Losing your dragon has reduced you to a babbling idiot," he said. "I am truly sorry – I so enjoyed our hatred for one another."

Súndavar's eyes blazed, and he launched himself at David with animal strength. He pinned him to the ground, before Vanir managed to force him off. He hissed angrily, and slunk away to his room.

David picked himself up and watched him leave. He glanced at Rune. "I know you loved him," he said. "I'm sorry on your account too, for losing him."

She shrugged sadly. "He'll come back. He must."

David seemed to accept this. He sat down next to Caitlin. "Now."

"We're looking for other parallels," Rune told him. "Between the story and our life. We can't find any. The only girls are myself and Caitlin and Shay, and none of us would die of grief if Galbatorix died."

"Who says Isolte is a girl?" Ieran asked. "It doesn't have to be. They were lovers in the story – perhaps in _our _story, they were simply close."

"Isolte betrayed her father in loving Tristam," Shay pointed out.

They all thought for a moment. Galbatorix had no friends. He had no one close to him but Shurikan. Would Shurikan fell him? Then, would the dragon die, as Isolte had? But what of the betrayal? Were they taking it too literally?

"We need that page," Rune said. "It's no use to wear ourselves out, as it is quite obviously part of our riddle. Tomorrow Ieran, Caitlin, David, Shay, and Vanir will search the library and see if they can find it. Súndavar, Eragon, and I will read over the play again to see if we missed anything."

Everyone nodded.

"We've been leaving something out."

Caitlin's voice was a soft whisper. The eyes turned to her.

"Tristam, Isolte and her father are not the only characters," she said. "If Galbatorix has a parallel, it's likely we all do."

"But only the King kills Galbatorix," Vanir protested. "Who the rest of us are doesn't matter. What matters is that he dies."

David nodded, then frowned. "He _is_ right, but think about the rest of the plot. There must be…"

Súndavar's door opened, and all eyes turned. David fell silent.

The boy had cleaned himself and changed his tunic. His hair was still wet from a bath, and he smelled of soap. His eyes were soft and normal, with no hint of the primal element they were becoming used to. He still wore a glove on his sword hand, but no longer was it covered in blood and grime. His tunic was fresh and clean, and his skin didn't look so deathly pale, as if he had scrubbed color into it. He sat down quietly.

"Súndavar," Rune whispered. "Are you…better?"

He glanced at her. "What is better supposed to mean? I will never be over what happened." He looked at his hands. "But I am of little use to any of you a _babbling idiot._"

"Funny, the things a bath can do to someone's sanity," David remarked.

Súndavar's head snapped towards him. He grinned devilishly. "Is that all it is? Friend, you should bathe more often!"

Both laughed. It took a moment for the group to realize that there was no ill will in either. Then they all broke into laughter.

When the mood had quieted, Súndavar glanced at them all. "I believe I've found something that you need." He produced a small book. On the cover, it said _Heart Writing_.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Tawnyclaw's wings ached. His talons were sore from keeping such a grip on the letter held in them.

_Beat, two, beat four, feathers flare, catch wind, warm air, soar. Beat two…_

The incessant rhythm of it all was beginning to wear him down. He shrieked and beat his wings harder to gain altitude.

His thoughts turned to his mate, his egg, anything to keep himself from thinking of the terrible burning in his wings. The white hawk he had chosen as a partner was certainly sitting on their egg now. Would it have hatched? He should have been there, to help with feeding.

His thoughts wandered again, to Rune this time. He was happy for her – she had found a mate who could love her, and had chicks. Little, featherless, human chicks, but all the same. He still was puzzled a bit by who the father was – she touched so many males that it was a bit confusing. There was the Bad Blood Boy, who of late seemed quite animal, and the Rider. And the elf with black hair, whom she sometimes talked to or hugged. And the other boy. The Magic Blooded boy. The boy in whom Tawnyclaw could sense greatness, bottled, waiting to emerge. There was something curious and almost fierce about that one.

Nonetheless, whomever the chicks' father was, Rune was happy. And that was what mattered to Tawnyclaw.

Why did it matter? He wondered quietly why he cared so much for the girl. She had helped him, for sure, back when his wing was broken and he couldn't fly at all. But it wasn't duty that bound him to her – not a sense of owing. She hadn't wanted him to owe her anything.

Was it love?

Perhaps. Perhaps he simply cared for her, cared enough to live his life doing things to help hers be easier. Like these letters.

The letters. Again, he felt the weight of them. With his hawk vision, he could see the Castle's highest spire, on the horizon. But it was still a long ways off. Still, it was coming steadily closer. Steadily…he beat his wings harder.

Then he heard a noise. It made his heart soar.

The white hawk joined him in the sky. Their wingtips brushed, and Tawnyclaw could feel his tiredness pass to her. She knew his aching, from the touch of his wings. She shrieked at him, wordlessly, for with her it was always wordless, but he got her meaning.

Tawnyclaw opened his talons, letting the letters fall. The white hawk swooped, snatching them herself. She shrieked again, this time less shrill, less of a command. _Land,_ she seemed to tell him. She would take them the rest of the way.

Tawnyclaw swooped and landed in a tree branch, and the white hawk cried at him approvingly. She beat her own cloud colored wings, and was soon gone from sight.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ieran stared at the diary Súndavar had handed him. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, but they didn't fall.

"How long have you had this?" he asked, quietly. Caitlin stood and went to his side, placing a hand on his arm tentatively.

Súndavar shrugged. "Quite a while. Practically since we got here."

Ieran bit his lip, and glanced at the girl on his arm. He breathed in quietly, then nodded.

"There's a page stuck in," Súndavar said. "In the back. I never read it."

A shriek interrupted them all, as the white hawk flew through the part of the ceiling that was open to the sky. She dropped the letters at Rune's feet, before landing on the only thing she could – Ieran's shoulder.

The Shade grimaced as her talons sunk several inches into his flesh. A stream of blood began to trickle down his bare chest.

Rune picked up the letters and held out her arm. The hawkess released Ieran's shoulder and flew to the girl.

"From the Varden," Rune said, stroking the hawk's head with one hand. "You've done well, pretty thing. Give regards to Tawnyclaw."

The hawk looked at her with her black eyes, then nodded once and took off. She flew out the way she had come.

Rune glanced at Ieran. He was staring in a state of either confusion or pain at the six daggerlike wounds in his shoulder. He reached up and touched one gingerly. "Would someone mind…"

Súndavar stepped forward, and laid a hand on him. He whispered the words, and the wounds healed. He sat down again, wordless, but Rune would see the anguish in his face.

Ieran glanced at his son, then nodded. "That was hard. Thank you."

"I have to get used to doing magic on my own sometime," Súndavar said with a shrug and a sad sort of sigh. He glanced at them all. Of everyone, it was David who laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You are brave, to move on," he said.

"I do not feel brave. I feel like a traitor." Súndavar glanced at the heavens, then down at his hands. "But I am so tired of being sad. It wears on a person."

David clasped his forearms in a brotherly way. "Be strong," was all he said.

Rune waved the letters above her head. "Come!" she said. "Let's read, before they explode or some such thing. If Orrin's touched them, it's likely."

Everyone laughed, and Rune tore open the thick envelope. There were many pieces of paper inside. She pulled one out.

"_Dearest Shadeslayer,"_ she read. Then she giggled. "It's from Arya. Shall I read it aloud?"

Eragon turned a shade of pink and shook his head, snatching the letter away from her. "I'll read it myself , thank you very much."

Rune shrugged with an expression that was between a tease and a flirt on her face. "Very well." She pulled out another. "_Shay._ Orrin's not much one for beginning his letters, is he?"

Shay took the letter and clasped it tightly against her heart, as if recalling all the times she and the King had shared. As one of the King's Elite, they had been together nearly since she had come to Surda, when she was fifteen. They were close friends.

Rune peeked inside the envelope. Her eyes widened and she crowed in joy. "I got one too! From Katrina and Angela, together!" She hugged the letter and slipped it into her belt. "There's two more," she said. "One from Nasuada to us all and one…" her face twisted. "One that is not addressed to any of us."

Ieran's heart quickened. "May I see it?"

Rune handed him the letter, and he scanned it. He recognized the writing immediately. It matched the writing in the book he held in his other hand.

"It is from Alyss," he said softly. "It would seem your mother has found her way to the Varden, Súndavar."

Súndavar blinked. "That means, when Galbatorix is dead, I can meet her." He was smiling.

Ieran sighed, and left the room without another word.

"I'll read ours aloud," Rune said, knowing it was best to let him go. "Then we can all go read in private."

Everyone nodded, and Rune began to read.

"_To those in the Lion's Den,_

"_**Hello, from each and every one of us**__Hello from Nasuada and from Orrin__, hello from Trianna and __**the new mage Ellemoe.**__ Hello __from the sword smith down the road, hello from the battle instructor.__ Hello __**from Angela and Solembum, hello from Arya and Orik. Hello from the pages who tend the horses**_

_We all wish you good luck._

She broke into a smile. "It's written in all different hands!" she laughed. "Look!" she sported the letter for them to see. It was true, the letter was a patchwork of handwritings. It strayed from a girl's gentle strokes so the chicken scratch of a man who barely knew how. It was written by a child here, an adult there. It was written by the Varden.

"_You cannot know how great __**of a relief it is to know that you are well and alive. **__**We have worried night and day about you. **_YOU AR A HEERO ERAGON."

"That was written by a child," Rune giggled.

"**WE MISS YOU."**

Rune's eyes widened. "Oh, look! The rest is _all_ written by children!"

The rest of the letter was haphazard and strewn every which way. There were doodles of dragons and mighty swords, drawings of princesses and towers and even a drawing of a wedding ring.

"_SHADOW FITES FOR TH VARDN. __**RUNES A PRINCESSS. **__WE LUHV CAPTIN SHAY. _**SAPHIRA IS THE PRETYEST DRAYGN."**

They all gathered around Rune, looking with hungry eyes at the letter. There were smiles on every face and tears in every eye.

_We miss and love you. Come home victorious, come home soon._

_The Varden_

Súndavar was staring at his hands. "Shadow," he whispered. "Shadow. Shadow fights for the Varden."

"Now go on!" Rune laughed. "Read your letters. Be happy." She glanced Súndavar's way. "Tonight we're going to figure out a riddle!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Do you love me again, Súndavar?"

Rune was sitting on Súndavar's bed, watching as he strengthened his arm muscles by pulling himself up on the window. He had done ten, and was not yet out of breath. Rune was not surprised – Súndavar was thin and light.

He dropped from the window and glanced at her. "Why do you ask? I am of the _hinatel_. Of the dark."

"Why do you use Shade words now?"

"Because I can." He shrugged and sat down on the bed next to her. He touched her face, then kissed her lips gently. "There. Have I answered your question?"

"No. Vanir could kiss me if he wanted to, but that doesn't mean he loves anyone but Shay."

Súndavar laughed. "I suppose you're right. We've grown apart, haven't we? It's _fnhentiel. _Fate."

"Not grown, and not fate. You've pushed me."

"Well, I'm through pushing. You and I are for _etrinten._ Eternity."

"If we live so long."

Súndavar laughed again. "You know something?"

"Mmm?"

"I think all this time, I have thought that I loved you. But I haven't until now. Who can know what love even _is_, until it is stolen and then returned?"

He got up off the bed and began to pace. "May I hold Luné?" he asked suddenly.

"She's sleeping."

"I won't wake her. Promise. Can I just hold her?"

Rune hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. But _don't_ wake her. I'm not feeding her again tonight. If she's woken, _you'll be the one _staying up all night with her crying. Clear?"

Súndavar nodded and darted off, leaving Rune slightly puzzled.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

The letters had lifted everyone's mood, even those who had not received one. Ieran, however, did not show up until late. It looked as though the Shade had been exercising; beating his lean muscles back into the precise shape he wanted them. David noticed Caitlin's eyes stray on him a bit too long for his liking.

"It is time to read our poem," Ieran said. His eyes were bright and glittering. He produced the sheet of paper that had been torn from the book and tucked in the diary.

Everyone gathered around him. Luné was still asleep in Súndavar's arms, and both looked about as comfortable as they ever had. Shay had brought a sweet roll with her, and was eating it somewhat noisily.

Ieran began then to read.

_Flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone,_

_One is two, and two is its own,_

_The key to this quest is one word yet three,_

_The first is a title, for eternity_

_The second is simply naught more but fate,_

_While within the third lies deepest hate._

_Word one, the truth, what the Dark One be,_

_Word two is known, I gave it free,_

_The third is hidden, but easy to find,_

_Inside the depths of Shadow's Mind._

_Hero of this legend true,_

_Which he is, what he shall do,_

_He strikes not in revenge, as the story so goes,_

_But to right all the wrongs that only he knows,_

_Looking back, all three were perhaps in the wrong,_

_But what does it matter when victory's sung?_

_Die the dark one, Die Hero's heart,_

_Die his most essential part,_

_Die until dead, Die 'till done,_

_Only then shall the war be won._

Everyone was silent when he finished. There was very little to say.

Finally, Rune spoke. Her voice was small. "I don't understand," she said.

"This doesn't help us," Eragon cursed. "All it's doing to proclaiming doom to the hero! One is two. What is that supposed to mean?"

Súndavar sighed gently. "We've hit another dead end. Curse the _nthkngr_. Curse the King." he said. His voice didn't sound convincing.

Ieran glanced at him. Súndavar's eyes didn't seem like the eyes of someone admitting defeat. They looked like the eyes of someone who knew destiny with surety. The eyes of someone who had seen the future, and liked what he saw.

They looked like the eyes of someone who understood.

Súndavar met his father's eyes, read the suspicion, and stood up. "I'm going to bed," he said. He kissed Luné's forehead gently. "May the baby sleep in my room?"

Rune raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "She may. If you drop her I'll murder you."

Súndavar nodded. On the way into his room, he muttered something.

"You may not have to."

**Author's Note: Can anyone figure it out? I've given you everything you need to figure out the riddle. Hugs to whomever figures it out first. :P Hearts to all, Kittie**


	26. Only Then Will The War Be Won

Súndavar sat in his room. Luné was still asleep, laying on his bed with the covers tucked tightly around her. He looked at her with gentle eyes.

"I wish you were my daughter," he told her sleeping form. "You're so pretty and perfect."

He touched her cheek. "Who am I kidding?" he asked her. "I cannot do what the riddle tells. I am not the person in the story. I am not that brave."

"I think you're brave."

Súndavar spun at the sound of the voice. Sitting in his window sill, there was a girl. Her thin body was garbed with a tiny white dress. Her blonde hair fell down her back.

"Lexi."

She turned, and Súndavar jumped back. Her eyes were startlingly blue. This wasn't Lexi. She was Isolte.

"You have to be brave," she told him. She stood, walked towards him. She placed a hand on his bare chest. "You have to brave, little Shadow. The third is easy to find. Where are you? Where are you?"

With those words, she fell at his feet, dead. Her body turned to mist, red, bloody mist, and rose around him. Súndavar cried out as her blood spattered his bare skin. There were images in the mist, images of death and gore. He yelled again. Luné awoke and began to cry.

Súndavar flew out of bed at the sound of Luné's voice. He was covered in sweat. The little baby next to him whined. There was a knock on his door.

"Súndavar? Súndavar, are you alright?"

He looked at himself. The blood had vanished. He was clean. The glove on his sword hand was off for the night, and his silverpalm shone. He squinted, frightened it might release the beast he still felt inside him.

"Come in!" he said. "Come in quickly!"

Rune entered and scooped up Luné. She took Súndavar's hand, covering the mark. Súndavar let himself relax.

"Thank you."

She nodded. "Leon sleeps poorly without his sister. May I take her back?"

"She is your child," he said with a nod. "Put her to bed. Then I would like to talk to you."

Rune nodded and left. When she returned, this time without a child in her arms, Súndavar had the glove on again.

"I'm sorry for waking her up," he said honestly.

"I'm more concerned for you," she admitted. "You were crying out in your sleep. Your face is still wet with tears."

"I'm frightened," he admitted.

"Of what?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I cannot say."

Rune sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "Come. Tell."

"I'm frightened of what the poem says," he said. "I dreamed of Isolte." He shivered against her. "It was a nightmare."

"I'm sorry."

Súndavar shook his head. "Let's talk of something else. Like we used to talk."

"I'm proud of you, you know."

"For what?" He asked in surprise. He didn't recall doing anything worth being proud of.

"For making your peace. And for releasing your hatred for David." She kissed his cheek. "I'm so very proud." She let him slip his arm around her shoulders, before nuzzling closer.

He smiled. "Are you frightened?" he asked. "Of how things will be?"

She nodded. "Yes. Sometimes I wish things were like a storybook," she said. "In storybooks, princesses get happy endings. Where's mine?"

Súndavar laughed. "But there _are_ no happy endings," he said. "Because nothing ever ends. We're but a word in a line in a paragraph on a page in the chapter of the story, Rune. All we can do it try to help tell the story the best we can."

Rune smiled at him. "Where have you taken Súndavar?" she asked. "That is too wise a comment for my Shadow."

He blushed.

She poked him in the ribs. "You're blushing!"

He hid his face behind his hands, trying to dodge her gaze while laughing. "No, I'm not!"

She laughed with him. "Yes you are! Súndavar's blushing!" she giggled and clapped her hands. By now her head was on his lap, with the rest of her draped on the bed. He looked down into her eyes.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Yeah. Anything. You know that." Súndavar tucked her hair behind a slightly pointed ear.

"Do you love me? Really, really love me?"

He touched her nose. "Maybe."

"Maybe what?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

He keened and kissed her forehead. "On if you love me."

"I do."

"Do you love Eragon?"

"Yup."

"Then yes. I love you. Because you aren't lying."

Rune sat up. Súndavar suddenly seemed quite sad.

She touched his face. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

But it wasn't nothing. Rune could see that.

He sighed. "I still feel it," he said. "Inside me. That animal. The murderous, insane, _thing_ that I let have my soul out of sadness. It's there. I'm afraid it will fight me for myself again."

Rune leaned her head gently against him again. "Can I help?"

"No. It's my battle."

He sighed. "But enough of that. It's late. You should go sleep."

Rune bit her lip. "What if…Súndavar, what if one of us dies?"

"What do you mean? What if we do? Then we're…we're dead."

"But…I want…" she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

He caught her chin and tipped her face up to him. "No, tell me."

"I want us to…to be together. Before we die."

Súndavar stared at her. There was a bit of shock on his face, a bit of confusion, and a bit of fear. "But…"

"I said it was silly. I shouldn't have said anything." She started to leave the room. He caught her arm.

"Rune, wait."

She met his eyes. His beautiful green eyes, inset in his ivory skin, framed by his shadowy hair. He pulled her close to him and touched her cheek.

"Turn around," he told her. She obeyed. His fingers made short work of the lacing on the back of her dress. When it fell to the floor, he motioned to the bed. "Wait over there," he said. She moved to obey, sliding under the covers.

Súndavar moved to the door, whispering a locking spell. When he finished, he fumbled with his own clothes and slid into bed next to her.

"Alright," he said softly. His hands found her body, and she shivered.

"Are you afraid?" she asked him. "You're shivering."

"Yes. You are too."

She tilted her face to kiss him. He returned the kiss passionately, slipping his arms around her body and pulling her close.

It would be a night neither would forget.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar left early in the morning, before Rune awoke. His stomach felt sick, whether from the night or from the day to come, he couldn't tell.

The night. It had been good, and it had been bad, and it had been real. Rune hadn't fallen asleep until practically dawn, and even then Súndavar hadn't been able to. It felt so strange, knowing what they had done.

He almost wished it undone, his mind was in such turmoil. He couldn't think of anything but, and certainly he had other things he needed to think about.

Like the poem.

Even if no one else could find the meaning, Súndavar knew it. He knew. And the knowledge made him want to throw up. The words kept repeating in his mind, over and over.

_Die the Dark One, Die Hero's heart._

_Die his most essential part._

They turned his stomach anew, and he darted to the window. Súndavar dry heaved heavily, and came away feeling twice as sick.

He knew the answer to the poem, knew his counterpart, knew what he had to do. In truth, it was almost a relief, knowing. But it didn't make it any easier.

He should have brought Persephone with him. Then he could end his life here and be done with it. It would be so much better then what the riddle foretold.

"Forgive me, Rune," he said, taking the thoughts back. "You must forgive me. I'm so sorry."

He pulled himself onto the window sill, and sat there. He pulled his knees to his chest, and began to cry. He didn't blubber or make faces, just let the tears roll down his cheeks. They were hot and sticky and unpleasant, but they came nonetheless. Nothing he could do would free him of this ration. It was his lot. He had been born for it.

But he did not have to like it.

No, he did not have to like it at all.

"Súndavar."

He looked up, and stubbornly wiped the tears from his eyes. "David."

David sat down next to him on the window sill. "I take it you've understood everything as well, then."

Súndavar nodded, and a fresh stream of tears stained his cheeks.

"If I could take your place, I would." David touched Súndavar's forearm. His eyes flew to his neck, where Rune had left scratches.

"Love marks," he commented. "She's given of herself to you, then."

Súndavar turned away. David moved closer and brought the slightly younger boy against him. "Shh. It's okay, brother."

"It's not. I don't want to!" Súndavar continued to cry. "Oh, David. You don't understand. I've lost everything, even myself, and now…now I have to give more. I don't want to give any more. What I have left…that's mine."

"Shh. It's alright."

"It's not. I must sound so _selfish_, so terribly selfish, but I don't care. I don't want to give so much."

David stroked his hair, aware of how queer they looked but not caring a bit. "Was she sweet then?" he asked, trying to draw Súndavar's mind away from the plight that neither dared to speak aloud.

"Yes. But I wished I hadn't have. I wished I would have sent her back to her room. Now that I've tasted, how will I…It's all being stolen from me! It isn't fair. A stupid poem, it shouldn't be…"

David sighed. "I am sorry. We both know there is nothing we can do about it. It's the only way he'll fall."

"But why me?"

"Because…because you're the one who fits. You're the one who has to."

Súndavar sat up, drawing away from David. "It still is not fair. I should not have to give so much."

"No. You should not."

"I suppose I'd best…I'd best do it now, hm? If I try to wait, I'll bail out forever."

David leaned down and picked up something. He showed it to Súndavar. It was Persephone. "I know you can do it," he said. "You are strong. You have lost the most, and you have the most to give. I am proud to call you my foster brother."

"Will you promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Bring Rune. And after, when things are calm, touch Saphira's eggs. Each one."

David nodded. "I will."

"Bring her when I call. To the war-doll room. Bring them all."

"As you wish."

The two embraced, a hug of brothers, and each went their own way.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Galbatorix."

The King turned to the sound of the voice. Súndavar stood in his doorway. There was fire in his eyes. Shade fire.

The King stood up. "Good day," he said. He smiled somewhat sadly.

"Take your sword," Súndavar said. "We're going to the war-doll room."

"Very well." Galbatorix seemed to know what was happening. He took his sword from where it sat, sheathed it on his belt, and followed the boy.

"Is this how it ends, then? Is the story near finished?"

Súndavar glanced behind him. "The story will never be finished."

They walked in silence then, in such silence an owl's wingbeat would have sounded like a thunderstorm. The thoughts of the other was hidden to each.

When the reached the room, Súndavar unsheathed his sword. He stood across from Galbatorix.

"You will lose," Galbatorix told him. "You will lose and you will die."

Súndavar said nothing.

Galbatorix reached out to touch his face. "You are but a boy," he said, his voice quite gentle. "It is such a shame."

"Not such a boy. Your own daughter made me a man yesternight."

"The girl sleeps about more than a brachet in heat," Galbatorix snorted. "If you tried to impress me with that, you have not succeeded."

"I am not trying to impress," Súndavar said. "I only try to impress those who matter."

Galbatorix touched his cheek almost tenderly, then stroked his hair. "We could have been so strong," he said. He know it was past that point. He was not trying to turn Súndavar again, merely stating what was. And it was true. They could have been.

"I have taught you much," the King said. "I will not enjoy killing you."

Súndavar nodded, and embraced the man. Galbatorix hugged back.

When Súndavar stepped away, his eyes were fiery again. He drew Persephone from her sheath. The King mirrored his action.

Neither wanted to throw the first strike. They circled for ages, around and around. The war-dolls were still scattered about the room, upright, like a battalion of soldiers ready for battle. Their painted eyes watched the two – the King and the Shade-boy – waiting for the deadly dance to begin.

And begin it did. 'Twas Galbatorix, in the end, who threw in his first attempt. His blade snaked towards Súndavar, deadly fast, a poisonous serpent. It was warded away by Persephone.

"I have never told you what my blade is called," the King said. His eyes were as bright and young as Súndavar's.

Súndavar said nothing.

"She is Blood Biter. The blood of countless Riders is on her tongue. Now I shall add yours, and in time, Eragon's." The King smiled. "You are the first death I have taken no pleasure in."

"I am not quite dead," was all Súndavar said. With those words out, he dove towards the man, ducking low, under his blade and rolling between his legs. His sword sought the king's chest hungrily, but it was beaten back.

Galbatorix made another attempt, his sword dancing around Súndavar's. Sparks flew angrily from the contact between Persephone and Blood Biter, as if neither cared much for contact with the other.

_David! NOW!_

There was no answer, but Súndavar knew. He knew with all certainty that David would bring the others. It was in his heart.

Galbatorix again sought or his blood, driving his blade downwards at his head. Súndavar rolled and sprang to his feet. He flipped backwards, hands on the shoulders of a war-doll, and landed on the head of another. Its neck snapped, and Súndavar kicked the head off, towards the King.

It fell in two pieces at his feet.

"You cannot run forever," Galbatorix said. "Sooner or later, you will tire."

"We will see," Súndavar answered, although he knew the King was right. This was a fight they both knew the end to.

Súndavar sprang off the doll's shoulders and at Galbatorix. He was batted aside like an unwanted rag doll, flying against the wall. He let out a grimace and a cry of pain. The back of his head was bloody where it had hit the wall.

The door opened, and David entered. Behind him, there was everyone.

"You're just in time!" Galbatorix laughed. "In time to see how far heroes fall!"

Blood Biter sought Súndavar's chest for the final time. Dizzied, Súndavar could not raise Persephone.

Galbatorix's sword pierced Súndavar's chest, running straight through. The boy screamed in agony as the sword forced its way through his back.

"No!"

It was Rune's scream. Rune's shrill voice echoed in Súndavar's ears as if it was the last thing he could ever hear.

He looked up at Galbatorix. His eyes burned. The King realized that he had made a terrible mistake.

With the strength of a thousand Riders murdered, Súndavar's voice rang out. The words were twisting, vile, and nothing anyone had ever heard.

"_Mry_ _yr_ _hearth bi un. Mry wre dred trethr, mn y I, Nthkngr_ _fnhentiel hinatel!"_

It was a spell. Not an elvish spell, spoken in the language of eld. Not a clean, good spell of the light. It was a Shade spell.

Galbatorix clasped at his heart, feeling the pain that had suddenly blossomed there. None can know how it was, but each knew the meaning of Súndavar's words.

"May our hearts be one. May we die together, you and I, King of Dark Fate!"

Galbatorix sought for a relief, racked his mind for a counterspell, but there was no such. A true name is not something denied, and his had been spoken.

Through a force unreckoned upon, Eragon managed to pull himself from the others, pull himself from the horror of Súndavar's plight. He picked up Persephone from where she had fallen.

The King had a sword through his own heart in an instant. He fell to his knees, then to the ground.

None paid him any more mind. Rune and Caitlin and Shay and Ieran and David and Vanir and Eragon as well, each ran to Súndavar's side. Eragon cradled the boy's head in his arms, as Rune stroked his hand.

Súndavar coughed, a weak, shallow cough, and blood spattered onto his tunic. He swallowed slowly.

"Heal him," Rune ordered Eragon, tears in her eyes. "Heal him!"

Súndavar shook his head gently. "There is…" he coughed again. "There is no spell to fix this. I am bound." He took a shaky breath. "Help me sit up," he asked, and Eragon quickly complied.

Súndavar stared down at Blood Biter, who still protruded from the front of his chest. "Would…" he spit blood from his mouth, then took another shaky breath. "Would someone please remove that?"

David took hold of the pummel tentatively, and pulled the sword away. Súndavar screamed every inch. When it was free, David stripped off his shirt, to staunch the blood.

"Do needn't bother," Súndavar said. "It won't do anything." He could feel himself getting dizzy, feel the animal inside him taking its last few breaths. Soon he would be alone, and soon after that he would be nothing at all.

He smiled. "I am glad it is over," he said. "You mustn't be sad. You've won."

"You've won," Rune said. She could barely get the words out. "You've won for us. And you've paid so terribly."

"Why like this?" Eragon asked. "Why?" his voice rose, it was almost a command.

Súndavar laughed a little, weakly. "It was how I was supposed to," he said. "The play said so."

"It was just a play," Rune said. She tightened her grip on his hand.

"And the poem. One is two. Two is its own." Súndavar coughed again, and this time no blood came up. "Flesh of flesh. One flesh. The King of the story and Isolte were the same person. Me." His head was beginning to hurt. "Rune, will you bring Luné? I'd like to hold her."

"You'll die while I'm gone!" she cried, shaking her head.

"I'll hold out." He shivered, and Eragon wiped his hair from his eyes gently.

Rune ran off with a sob.

"You _will_ hold out, won't you?" David's voice was a plea.

Súndavar shrugged weakly. "I hope so."

"Tell us about the poem." Ieran voice was low and sad.

"Oh. That." Súndavar wheezed a bit and nodded. "That was easy. The key to the quest is one word but three. A name. A single name with three parts."

"How did you figure out the name?" David asked. "I knew the poem, but not that name."

"That was easy too. The first, the truth. What the dark one be. Galbatorix is King. The second is naught more but fate. Fate. The third, hidden, but easy to find within the depths of Shadow's mind. Darkness. In the Shade tongue, you put the describing word after the thing word. Fate dark, rather than dark fate." He coughed and touched a hand to his forehead. "I'm beginning to feel light headed," he admitted sorrowfully. "I hope Rune gets back soon."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Rune reentered the room, Luné in her arms. She handed the baby to Súndavar.

He cooed at her happily, if somewhat tiredly. "You're so beautiful," he told her, stroking her hair. She smiled at him and giggled. He smiled back, kissing her nose. "You're just like your mom."

His eyes flew to his comrades, and his smile faltered a bit. It was back moments later, but this time it was sad. "I think it is time for goodbyes." He leaned up and kissed Rune's lips gently. "I love you," he told her.

"I love you too."

"I want you to be very strong for me, alright? I want you to care for Luné, and Leon, and Eth."

Rune did not ask who Eth was.

"I want you and Eragon to get married," he said. "You'll be happy."

He turned to Caitlin. "Keep Ieran out of trouble, will you?"

Caitlin nodded sadly. There were tears on her cheeks.

Súndavar ran his fingers through his hair. "Shay, you're pregnant. Have been for a week or so." He smiled at her. "Congratulations."

Shay touched her stomach hesitantly, then hugged Súndavar tightly. She kissed his cheek.

"Take care of her and your daughter, Vanir."

Vanir nodded. There were tears in his eyes as well.

"David…" Súndavar smiled. "I'm glad we don't hate each other anymore."

"I'm glad as well, Shadow."

"We began as brothers, and so shall we end." He laid his head back against Eragon, no longer having the strength to hold it up. He looked paler than he ever had.

But his smile didn't falter. "Ieran?" he said, not looking at him. His eyes were closed. "You have not been the best of fathers. I suppose that's partially my fault. But you've been a good friend. If you ever see Alyss again, please tell her I was happy. Right up until the very last moment."

Ieran closed his eyes against the tears. His throat felt tight, and his eyes watered.

Súndavar's grip on Luné loosened, and he frowned. "I…don't want to…drop her…" he breathed. Speech was becoming hard.

Rune took her child.

Súndavar reached up to shake Eragon's hand. The Rider's grip was firm, Súndavar's was not. He opened his eyes. They flicked over Eragon, then down at himself. At the hole in his chest, at the blood that seeped from it. It was a lot of blood.

"Eragon…" He coughed. "Take care of them. Rebuild Alagäesia…." His eyes closed. There was still a smile on his face.

And he was gone.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune sat by herself in the shade, watching as the five children played under the lemon trees. She felt old, and tired. But not only those things. She also felt alive, and refreshed, and powerful. She felt strong and happy.

This was a place of bittersweetness. The children didn't know that, as the rolled and tumbled together like puppies. They knew only of the good things in this place, and what bad they knew of was only stories. Stories of the great dragon, stories of Eth's father, stories of their sacrifice.

Little Eth glanced her mother's way, and grinned. She ran over, straight black hair half falling out of the braid Rune had tried to tame it into. Her red eyes were happy and playful as she climbed onto the pedestal of the statue that her mother sat on.

She looked up at the mighty statue, the statue of Slate and Shadow. Both looked fierce and frightful, yet loving and kind and warm. She pulled herself up to sit next to her father in his saddle.

"Tell me again," she said, touching his face. "Tell me again."

Rune stood up and plucked her down off the life-size statue, swinging her around into a hug. "You've heard it a thousand times."

"Stories never get old," Eth said solemnly. "Not such special stories."

Luné came over, blonde hair grubby. "Come on, Eth!" she cried. "Freoh's gunna climb the lemon tree!"

Eth clapped her hands in glee and wiggled to be let go of. Rune set her down on the ground and the little girl ran off to join her siblings and friends.

Rune felt a pair of strong arms snake their way around her waist. Eragon kissed her neck gently, and she laughed.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

Eragon nodded. "Come on. We'll be late!"

Rune clapped her hands for attention. "Children! Come on! We don't want to be late!"

Five heads turned, including one that had to peek its way out of lemon branches. Freoh tumbled out of the tree, landing on his butt. Luné helped him to his feet. He smiled at her.

Luné and Leon caught sight of Eragon.

"Daddy!" they cried, tumbling as seven-year olds do into the arms of their father, who had let go of Rune to embrace them.

He kissed both of their cheeks, then lifted them onto either of his hips. Luné tugged at his hair.

"Look what I can do!" she cried. "_fethryblaka,_" The little girl spewed a few clumsy words, and a robin flew to her hand. She whistled at it. It whistled back.

"Where's Redtalon?" Rune asked her, searching the skies for the girl's companion hawk. Luné giggled and shrugged.

"Hunting," she replied. "She caught a rabbit yesterday."

Rune smiled, glancing again at the skies. Leon frowned, annoyed at being ignored. He beat at Eragon's shoulder.

"And what have you to show me?"

"Ieran taught me to shoot a bow," he said proudly. He stuck his tongue out at Luné. "It's better than calling silly birds with silly magic."

"Is not!"

"Too!"

Eragon set them both down. "Hush. Are you ready?"

They looked up at him and nodded, fight forgotten.

"Let's go then! Eth, Freoh! Audrey!"

All the remaining children ran over. Eth glanced shyly at Eragon from under her long eyelashes.

"Hello, sir."

He smiled at her, leaning to kiss her hand gently. She blushed and hid behind Rune's skirts.

"She is his daughter," Eragon said with a smile, kissing Rune. The children made faces.

Rune wagged a finger in his face and laughed. "Come on, Dragon Rider. We'll be the first to miss a ceremony we're part of!"

She took Eth's hand in one, Eragon's in the other, and they and the children ran towards whatever would meet them.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Do you, David of the Rider's Table, take she, Caitlin of the Queen's Own, to be your wife? For love, for life, for eternity, and even beyond if fate so wills?"

David stared into Caitlin's eyes. There were smiles on both of their faces.

"I do. Forever."

Ieran looked at Caitlin. "And you, my sweet Caitlin of the Queen's Own, take David of the Rider's Table to be your husband? For love, for life, for eternity, and even beyond if fate so wills?"

"I do. Forever."

Ieran grinned. "Then may they be united." He glanced at Eragon, who strode from his place. David kneeled at his feet.

"Your sword," he said. David unsheathed Persephone, held her high. Eragon took her from him, and touched her tip to each shoulder. "David of the Rider's Table, treat her sweet. Be hers always. Put her before yourself. May your love flourish." He smiled, and offered him a hand. "Rise."

David took the hand, and glanced at Topaz. His dragoness stood tall and happy, with a wide grin on her face. At her side, Saphira seemed just as joyful. The white of Topaz contrasted the blue of her mother perfectly. He stood up.

Rune stepped forward and embraced Caitlin. "Treat him as well as he treats you. May love be in your dealings." She held her an arm's length away, then hugged her again.

In the seats spread in the garden by the waterfall, everyone was smiling. Arya's smile was small and knowing, Angela's wide and happy. Nasuada's smile was joyful, Orrin's merely a smile you can not hold in.

Tawnyclaw and Redtalon shrieked joyfully in hawksong, taking off and doing an aerial maneuver above everyone's heads. Father and daughter landed on bride and groom's outstretched arms.

Rays of sunlight danced around. In that moment, there was a new sense. A sense of someone, there, joyous. Someone unseen but watching, and happy.

Ieran laughed. The hawks took off again. The dragons breathed pillars of flame into the air, which transformed into fire-blossoms, then faded away brilliantly. Matrix and Glaedr roared, as if to finalize the union.

"You may now kiss your bride, Rider!"

David did.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Súndavar and Lexi watched the wedding from their cloud. The two were smiling as well._

_Súndavar glanced at her, green eyes dancing. "Go David!" he cried. He knew no one could hear him. But it didn't matter. Lexi laughed with him, a hand covering her mouth._

_Slate laughed, wrapping his tail around the boy's waist and flipping him up onto his back. __**Let us go flying,**__ he said. __**Perhaps they will see. Besides, Eragon and Vrael will wonder where we've gotten too.**_

_Súndavar laughed and helped Lexi onto the dragon's back. "He's right. To Kuthian!"_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon and Rune stood in the tower. The sun was beginning to set, beginning to sink beyond the mountains for sleep. Below, they knew Shay and Lily and Katrina were putting the little ones to bed, telling them stories of the bravery of the battles that seemed so far away now.

Below, Alagäesia stretched to every horizon. The kingdom was beautiful again, no longer scarred with slavery and misuse. There were problems, of course – there would always be problems – but once again the Riders ruled with a firm but loving hand.

Eragon kissed her cheek, and took her hand. He held it up. The ring she wore caught the light, dancing in the sun's last rays.

"You never did open my gift," he told her as they stared out at the sunset. "The gift I gave you for your fifteenth birthday."

She laughed, and leaned her head against him. "We've moved on, have we not? I am no longer fifteen."

He laughed back, and wrapped his arms around her. "This is our happy ending," he said.

"No. There are no happy endings. Nothing ever ends."

They kissed, happily, not a kiss of lust or passion but a kiss of fondness, and both were smiling.

When they released one another, they laughed again. There was a whisper in the wind, a whisper of times to come. A whisper of magic unbound. A whisper of the good things, and bad things, and the real things they had yet to discover. It was a whisper of life. A whisper of memories.

It was a whisper of Hope.


End file.
